Bury my heart
by Dresner1817
Summary: Cast away to Roanapur by a old friend, Karl Dael fights to build a new life in this damned city of the living dead. While in the pursuit of a life away from wet work, he finds himself in the clutches of the powers at be that rule Roanapur and at the mercy of a old flame. Will the outsider be accepted or will he be the stranger that disappeared like straw in the wind? R&R F&F
1. Chapter 1: Waking up in a Nightmare

_**Hey readers, Its been a hot minute since I've wrote anything so out of the abyss I return to give you content. Its good to be back to why not crack a bottle for one of my favorite anime, Black Lagoon. Gritty, in your face, real, and over all bad ass it inspired me to write again.**_

 _ **Enjoy it and remember to RR &FF**_

 _ **With Love ~Dresner**_

* * *

A heavy breath leaves him as he sinks into the couch more. The smell of fresh rain enters the room from the open window near him. Heavy storms were dew for the next few weeks which only meant two things: Power outages and flooding. The locals wouldn't be happy or law abiding once the street lights stopped coming on. The flooding would come later to hopefully put a end to all that, or at least that's what some thought when Katrina hit in 05. The television turned to static and the internet refused to load leaving him with his own thoughts and the last cigarette for the rest of the night.

"Damn the storm." He grunts attempting to lift himself up only to knock over his half empty bottle of Finlandia. "Fuck."

The vodka bottle smashes on the tile floor. In his drunkenness he throws himself to the floor to try and save the spirits, but to no avail. His shirt became soaked in booze and blood from his bleeding hands. If that wasn't enough his last cigarette soaked up some of it in the puddle before him. Drunk, tired, angry, and bleeding the fool lashes out at the coffee table throwing it over on its side as he gets up cutting his feet open on the broken glass.

 _"Let it go… Seriously.."_

Her words echoed in his subconscious as he staggers to the bathroom with blood oozing from his feet. Whispers could be heard in the shadows among the rain as one wet step after another carried the battered man to the bathroom. He throws himself to the toilet to hurl the consumption into the netherrealm.

 _"Look at yourself…"_

From his dilapidated throne he gazed up at the fading light of the flickering bathroom light toward the mirror on the wall by the sink. With what strength he had left from throwing his dinner away he throws himself to his feet.

 _"You lost weight… And sanity…"_

Bloodshot and hollow eyes, greasy hair, five o'clock shadow, and paling skin. His feet begin to feel cold and wet. He wipes his hands and pulls glass from his palms slowly dumping them into the small trash can to his side. The white towel beside him turns red at his feet as he cleans up the blood and rapping them up just enough to stop the bleeding.

 _"Their you go…"_

He throws the shower curtain open and tumbles in. The pain in his feet plants him firmly on his ass as the water rains from above. In his drunken state all he does is sit their as a mix of blood and dirt melts off his body into the drain.

 _"You can't wash it away…"_

"Go to hell." He replies.

 _"Hell is to good for me. I'd rather be here with you."_

He awakens from the trance and launches himself out of the shower. The pain electrifying his body with every step until he returned to the living room. The rain became worse blocking out all the windows and nearly blacking out the whole room if it wasn't for the TV in the corner filling the room with blue light. A gun laid on the table, its blued finish gleaming in the light of the static filled TV. A ora seemed to form around it in his mind, calling to him. A dark voice whispered in the shadows around him…

 _"Do it…"_

The ominous clicking of a locked hammer…. The scent of gun oil and burning gunpowder...

* * *

The heavy thumping of rain against concrete slowly began to wake him. He could feel himself drowning almost as he pushes himself off the ground to find himself face first in an alleyway in the pouring rain. The man sat up vomiting water and bile beside him as he tries to keep himself from rolling onto his back.

"Fuck." He says as slowly began to regain some senses. The fading amber light of halogen car lights and the rumble of older model cars caught his attention in particular. The world was boring to him as everything began to lose soul, even the automotive industry as well. To actually hear a car anymore was rare as they all began to become conservative and quiet having more in common with caged elephants rather than wild and free beasts of the savanna. He tries to stand and nearly collapses to the ground with a piercing headache. Blood oozed from his nose and into the water below. He puts his hands on his temples and to his dismay they were perfect.

The man screams to the sky with rage cursing the gods above and the woman responsible.

"Alright junky that's enough!" The sound of a rather cranky cop shouted as flashlights shined on him.

"I'm not a junky, asshole." He replies to the cop catching a reflection in the water of a woman behind him.

"Still alive?…"

The man turns quickly to strike the woman. Instead of a punishing blow to the demon who robbed him of death it landed against the nose of a police officer. The officer fell to the ground on his back dead as a door nail. Clicking of revolver hammers locking in place from the hands of nervous policemen triggered his instincts and the other two policemen were thrown to their backs from a low roundhouse kick. He was lucky for one of them smashed his head on the ground cracking it open like a egg. The other dropped his gun in the fall as well as his flashlight. The man sprang on him smashing the cops skull into the ground till he could only feel the wet mush of crushed bone and brain matter.

"Still a murderer… Even in this new life I've given you…"

"To hell with you witch!" He screamed into the storm above.

"Hell is to good for us… So I brought us here…"

Sirens blare as the faint blue flashing lights of police cruisers drew closer. He snatches up both the revolvers and a gun belt from the dead police officers before dashing into the night.

" _You can't escape that easy Karl."_ The woman chuckles darkly.

That name… That gilded name… The laugh… The arrogant verboten laughter of the succubus.

It followed him through the dark back streets of this city for what seemed to be a eternity. The alley opened like a stream to a river like main road packed with cars and tuc-tuc cabs. Signs written in some Asian language hinted to his location until he saw the obviously Asian skyscrapers in the sky. He knew he was in Asia, but no idea exactly.

"The fucking Orient Claudia?" Karl curses. The street lights were giving off more than enough light for him to realize what he was wearing was more than out of place in Asia. His grey track pants were still blood stained from his drunken doctors work on his hands and feet, The black A-shirt was torn, but at least his combat boots were still good albeit wet. But there was no time for a wardrobe change as more cops appeared from the sidewalk north and west of him.

A passing bus sends a tidal wave at him and in it he saw her face twisted in a demonic fashion with blazing red eyes and shark like teeth. " _GGGGEEEEETTTTT OOOOOOUUUUUTTTT!"_

Demonic laughter filled his ears as he charged across the streets with guns in hand. He runs. He runs faster than he ever ran before as the laughing grew louder and louder. The demonic face races across the sky after him as horns blaze from the angry drivers echo around him as he dashes across the street.

" _Run little rabbit…. RUN!"_

" _RUN!"_

The light fades away into darkness once more but the demon behind him drew ever closer with every chuckle. He turns quickly to fire his revolvers at the demon in a attempt to fight back, but only succeeded in blinding him from the muzzle flash from the snub nose .357 Magnum. Spots filled his eyes and laughter filled his ears until he hit the ground sliding across the wet concrete till he crashed into a dumpster. Pain shot through his side and left arm as if he were shot and could feel the blood dripping from his wounds. The demon appeared before him with a wicked smile in between the spots in his eyes.

" _No place to run baby…"_

Karl drew both the revolvers and empties them into the demon till the heart breaking sound of clicking hammers echoed in the alleyway. It was gone and in its place were three bodies of run of the mill street trash with knives in hand.

" _Six… You've killed six people tonight…"_ The woman taunted him. Her caijin drawl in full swing only made her words more ominous. " _But don't worry Karl, You're still a good person…"_

"Come out and face me." He replies as he rips the shirt off one of the men to rap his wounds. "Come on! Face me. FACE ME!"

" _Maybe if you ask nicely."_ She chuckles.

"Maybe you need to fight fair for once." Karl hisses as he struggles to his feet. "Instead of sending me across the fucking world with your FUCKING MAGIC!"

" _My magic isn't to blame for this, cherr."_ She replies as her figure appeared in the rain. " _You wanted to end it all, but it isn't as easy as you think especially since we made our agreement."_

The slim figure of Claudia appeared in the rain dressed gypsy rags with brown leather boots. " _You're mine till I say otherwise. You gave your life away years ago and there is no going back on your word. Now your going to do something for me here in this dead city."_

"And what would that be?"

" _Suffer."_

Suffer… With that word she melted into the storm leaving him wounded, no cash, and lost in a city he didn't know.

* * *

 ** _Hours later…_**

* * *

The rain seemed to have no end as another blanket of hot rain fell on him. He tried finding shelter but it was as if every damn house and business had a iron gate. To his surprise he found a open garage to a large warehouse. It almost seemed like a tunnel to paradise through the pouring rain and darkness. When he entered he was rather surprised to find while it was well lit, but quiet and rather tranquil or as much as a warehouse could be. Unlike most warehouses it was mostly covered with light blue with red smires on the walls. The smell of blood in the air gave away that this was a meat packing warehouse which explained the red smires.

"There has to be some medical kits or at least some booze to clean the wounds. Damn third world shithole has to at least keep pure grain booze in the med cabinet." He says as his boots click against the tile floor.

Turning a corner he finds a large open room near another garage door with a large drain in the middle of the floor. A large meat hook lingered above the drain swinging gently from side to side with a eery creak. He could feel a presence still lingering in the room and he pulls out one of the revolvers just incase someone here wanted to pick a fight. After his run ins with the police and some locals it seemed this place wasn't the most hospitable place on earth.

"Maybe killing those three was a good idea." He says as he looks at the revolver. Karl noticed it was S&W Model 10 with a strange asian markings along the barrel. "Import markings… Hmmm. Southeast Asian maybe? The characters are more southern than their more northern neighbors. Thai? Viet? Maybe Laotian? Can't be Viet, They would have issued Makarovs by now. Hmmm…"

He spots a sink with rags, a bottle of everclear, and a small medical kit with a hand drawn red cross. "Thank the gods." He says as he moves to the sink with a purpose to clean himself up. "And their is soap, Hot damn."

Though Claudia had whisked him away to the orient with nothing but the cloths on his back she didn't bother to clean him. He turned on the faucet and started washing his face and arms. With the medical kit he patched himself up and cleaned his wounds with the everclear.

"Damn those bastard." Karl says as he takes a drink from bottle. "Damn the blade and those fucking cops. And damn that woman for sending me here."

Footsteps echoed behind him and from the corner of his eye he could see a figure dressed in doctors garbs with a blood covered apron and a mask. The figure steps into view with a large chainsaw dripping with fresh blood from its chain.

"Busy night doc?" Karl asks the figure, eyeing the rather disproportionate sized chainsaw.

The figure looks over at the tool and back at him nodding.

"I'm not here to hurt you." Karl says bluntly. "I'm not from here and so far no one from the police to the local junkies wants to help me." He points to the slashes on his arm and chest as well as the deep cut into his shoulder. "Sorry to intrude in your workplace, The dark and the rain didn't help me. Though if you wish to wash that chainsaw in my chest… I would not hold it against you."

The figure shrugs and reaches for the pull cord on the motor.

"Then so it be." Karl replies with a matter of fact tone. "I can respect your decision. Though if you are going to kill me, I want to see the face of my killer. At least give me that respect."

The figure stops and looks back at him in confusion. What confused Karl was the device the figure drew from his back.

"I am a little confused." The figure said in a robotic voice. "Did you say you wanted to see my face?"

"Yes." Karl says leaving the revolver on the table.

"Usually they just scream and beg for mercy." The figure said putting away the device in a holster as he removed his mask and goggles. To his surprise it was a young goth girl under the mask with scars on her neck. "You're not like my customers or the cattle they bring me. What are you doing in my office?"

"It was the only place for a wounded tourist to get out of the rain." He replies as he watches her body language.

"Understandable," She said as she put the chainsaw down cutting the tension in the room down to a acceptable level. "So you wanted to get out of the rain? Why not go to the bars nearby?"

"I've lost a bit of blood, stabbed a few times, and-" Karl pauses as the image of the demon flashed in his eyes.

"And?" The girl asks him awaiting an answer.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Nothing. I think I might have lost a little to much blood. I don't know how I got here, this city."

"You look like you've seen a ghost." She replies, her robotic tone giving off a strangely sympathetic vibe.

Karl turns off the water and stares blankly into the full sink of reddish ooze. The reflection of a old man of forty with heavy five O'clock shadow, recessed green eyes, and thick black hair cut short. Hard to believe this old man was only thirty two years old, but war and depression ravages men from young studs to old men or the walking dead.

"You can say that." He replies quietly. "Excuse me, but I didn't ask you what your name was."

"Frederica." She says as moves closer to him. "But mostly people call me Sawyer the Cleaner."

Frederica is a short woman of around 5ft 3 or so with short black hair and ghostly eyes. Compared to the 6ft Karl she wasn't much, but the way she moved the large chainsaw with no effort said something for her physical abilities.

"Karl, Karl Dael." He replies letting out his hand for a handshake. Frederica looked at his hand and back to him rather surprised, or at least he thought she was by the slight change in her glare. After what seemed to be a eternity she removes her gloves and firmly shakes his hand. He gives a relieved smile and returns it to her.

"Cleaner eh?" Karl asks her as he pulls out a needle and thread from the medical kit. "Judging by the large saw and the meat hook, You're cutting up something bigger than a cow."

"You can say that." She replies with a slight sadistic smirk.

"Cleaner." Karl replies. "You clean up after people. Why else would you use a legitimate chainsaw rather than the tools of the butchery trade?"

"Those are for the front. That is for my real job." She replies pointing at the chainsaw.

"Knew it." Karl says as he threads the needle. "We had guy that did this. Use to be a butcher and a surgeon, believe it or not. Polish guy from Żagań who use to work on a farm and later became a surgeon for the Polish Army. He could make a messy wet work look like nothing happened."

"A professional." Frederica says with a slight smirk.

"Indeed." Karl replies as he tries to stitch himself up and failing. Frederica stops him and takes the needle.

"You're making it worse." She says bluntly. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No. Have you?"

"On the corpse of a dealer who cheated my employer out of fifty grand." She says as she sows up the cut on his arm with ease. "He wanted him to look good as new after I hollowed him out and his men filled his chest with C4."

Karl was surprised to hear something so cruel and so bluntly said from such a young girl. Even with the voice box it was deadly cold. "For what reason?" He asks her.

"For his funeral." She replies with a smirk. "The cartel believes they are the cruelest faction here in Roanapur. Then my employer gave them something to mourn."

"Huh." Karl says with a mix of disgust and intrigue at her story. "Smart, underhanded as well, but smart."

She bites the excess string off the sealed wound and moves to the next one on his shoulder. She couldn't help but admire his tattoos as she motions him to come with her to the back. "I'm too short to reach your shoulder. Come with me, but leave the gun here."

"I will." He replies reluctantly and follows her. To his surprise she leaves the chainsaw behind as well. Maybe he could trust her…

"What was the name you said? Roanapur, was it?" Karl asks as they walk through the warehouse section.

"Yes." She replies as they round the corner to a break room with a old green couch and what looked like to be a changing room by it.

"Hmmm, What country are we in?"

"You really are lost." She says as she removed some of the protective clothing. "Thailand."

Karl didn't know anything about this place, but what he could gather it wasn't the best place to be. The cops, the locals, and now a cleaner. He wouldn't recommend it so far to anyone. He gave a troubled glare and thanks her for the info. Frederica ignores him and goes to the changing room. Karl sits down and takes a breather running his hands through his hair.

"Great… Just great…" He thinks to himself. "I have no idea where in Thailand I am and zero contacts in this country…. No… That's what she wants…. To give in, to panic. No… I'll have to make them…"

Fredrica returns wearing a more gothic attire of dark purple. She takes a seat next to him and begins stitching him up like a taxidermist.

"What part of Thailand?" He asks her bluntly.

"You really don't know where you are." She replies. "We are on the coast. Toward Cambodia and a day drive from Bangkok."

"I've never been here before or to Indochina either." Karl says as she hits a nerve with the needle.

"Sorry." She apologized. "I'm not use to using a needle on a live subject."

"How old are you Frederica?" Karl asks as she finishes the stitches on his shoulder. Frederica douses the stitches in everclear to clean it and takes a sip from the bottle.

"Nineteen." She says to Karls surprise.

"Nineteen years old?!"

"In this city," She says with a noticeably heavy heart. "You grow up quickly."

"And you do whatever it takes to survive, eh?" Karl says with deep understanding. "Even if it means doing dirty work."

"Mercenary? Bounty hunter?" Frederica replies, trying to change the subject. "The scars and tattoos scream military or extremist."

Karl chuckles, "I'm a old soldier, yes, and a mercenary. I've been a mercenary since I was twenty two."

"How old are you, old man?" She asks him with a sneer. His tone was rather arrogant to her ears like that of Balalaika or Mr. Chang, two people she didn't like in the slightest.

"Thirty five." He replies honestly. "Though I look older, don't I? Hehe. The war did that to me."

"Afghanistan?"

"Never been."

"Huh." Frederica replies and gets up to get something from her office.

"No." He replies as he looks over her handy work. "What made you say Afghanistan?"

"You said you have never been to Southeast Asia." She says as she returns from office with another bottle of everclear. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure. Thank you." He said taking the bottle and drinking a couple of gulps.

"I was never in Afghanistan." Karl said as he began to remember some of the place he fought on in his youth. "I mostly did wet works in the Americas and Europe, my employers mostly operated there and at the time both of these regions were more hectic than the middle east or the middle kingdom could ever be. Things have changed over the years, but war remains the same. The only difference is most of the combatants don't bother having a uniform or a flag to unite them, only money binds them together. Damn this war economy."

"Surprising." She said as she finishes a gulp from the bottle. "I thought you were with Hotel Moscow by the way you carried yourself. Who do you work for?"

"No one. I'm not for sale anymore." Karl replies as she hands him back the bottle. "Hotel Moscow, Russians. Bratva. What made you think I was working with them? I'm not exactly your spitting image of a Russian."

"You're right, but the tattoos on your left arm are Russian prison tattoos." Frederica points out. "Some of the people the Triad have brought me had some form of those tattoos. At least when they were fighting years ago."

"Correct." Karl says as he takes another drink. "But I didn't get them in Russia, I got them in North Korea."

He quickly takes another gulp and changes the conversation before the memories came back to him about his time there in the DPRK. "Bratva… Triad… Chinese Triad I assume?"

"Hong Kong Triad." She replies as she begins to feel a bit tipsy and sway back and forth.

Karl groans and takes another drink. This night felt like a nightmare and no matter how much he drank it wouldn't kill the horror or wake him up from it. He looks over at the young girl sitting next to him sharing the bottle of spirits with some regret and pity for her. The once proud mercenary was now deduced to sharing a bottle of everclear with a nineteen year old butcher in some backwater he never heard of.

"You ok kid?" He asks her as she sways from side to side.

"A little hazy, but I am fine." She replies with some slurring.

"I'm surprised you decided to get drunk with a stranger."

"You're different than the scum come through my door." Frederica says as she lays back in the chair relaxing herself. The tension was gone and strangely Karl felt the same calm in the air as well. "And besides, I like you."

"I guess there isn't many people here that aren't scared of you, eh?"

"Yes. They mostly just give me a body or a victim to cut up to make a statement to someone." She replies drunkenly. "You're not scared, just out of your element. I was once too. Such a gentleman too."

"You need some rest Frederica." Karl says to the girl as she finally tilts over onto his shoulder passing out instantly.

He smiles as he admires his new friend blacked out on his shoulder. Karl turns to let her lay down on his chest so they could be somewhat comfortable on the couch in the cold meat packing plant. He takes a heavy breath and closes his eyes in hopes of actually sleeping after walking into a nightmare.

But he knew Claudia wouldn't give him the luxury. But after all… He did kill her daughter.


	2. Chapter 2: Get your feet wet

Frederica woke up first and to her surprise her new friend was still there. She was a bit hungover after last night with her head not showing much forgiveness at all.

" _Hmmm… He's sleeping soundly, but troubled."_

Out of the corner of her eye she sees the red light of her answering machine blinking rapidly. She rolls her eyes and walks into her office to begin the days work.

"Sawyer! Where you be? You be gone all night! You better not be dead! Call me!"

" _Shenhua."_ She smiles. " _Always worried that I'm working to much. I better call her after this."_

Four more messages from Shenhua and then another from her other roomate Lotton asking when she was getting home. Lotton was a weird guy, but he was a nice guy and the two got along well. The last message was rather surprising as it was from Boss Chang himself.

" _Sawyer, Its Chang, I have a problem that I need you to take care off. Call me back ASAP."_

Sawyer's face lit up with glee at the message. Either she was cutting up another soul here or out in the city. She hoped it was out in the city because she needed to get out more and since a storm cell was in the area it would wash the blood off her beloved chainsaw easily. She then remembered about her new friend, if she could call him that, sleeping on the couch in the waiting room. He wasn't a bad guy and is rather friendly. Maybe he could be useful and really being a new fish to these shark infested waters he could use some work.

" _Am I taking pity?"_ She asks herself. " _If I managed to make it here alone then he should too… No… No I could use another set of hands… Working ones hehe."_

Frederica did have four or five other cleaners on the Triad payroll as well as her own from the meat packing front. For a nineteen year old orphan left to die in Indochina she was doing rather good for herself. Sure she had to cut up a few bodies, both dead and alive, and clean up remains of both the decomposed and the freshly cut. But she enjoyed it in her own little way as any psychopath would. But it never got in the way of her work. Karl didn't seem like the cleaner type and was more of a solider or enforcer, not someone you would send to intimidate but someone you would send to end or start war.

" _Though I need to see if I'm reading him right. Lotton gave off a vibe like that till he ended up being useless."_

She picks up the phone and dials for Mr. Chang.

Karl awoke in a daze with stiffness in his back from sleeping up right. He runs his hands through is hair and groans at how oily it is. The smell of wet dog filled the air and his nose with disgust. Frederica could hear him moving around and smiled as Mr. Chang's secretary agreed to her arrangement she purposed. She hangs up the phone and walks out to see Karl cracking his fingers and yawning after just waking up.

"Morning." Karl greets her. "Do you have any coffee by chance?"

"I do. You need new clothes."

"I do. Sorry to be asking for so much. I'm a terrible guest it seems." Karl replies with a smirk.

"You can repay me by coming with me on a job." Frederica says as she motions him to come with her to another park of the plant.

"I'm not a butcher, Though I can learn." Karl says compromising for the situation.

"You're eager."

"I'm not exactly picky and the situation I'm in doesn't allow me to be." Karl says accepting his situation, which impressed Frederica.

"Are you use to doing this?" She asks him genuinely curious to know.

Karl shrugs and doesn't say anything. She noticed a shift in his demeanor becoming introverted and quiet. "I have a bin in a closet next to the break room full of clothes from the meatbags. Take what will fit. I'll make our coffee."

"Thank you." Karl replies as they get into the break room. She points to the closet and Karl begins searching through the bin. He found another black A-shirt and out of all the cloths in the bin only a pair dark blue jeans and black adidas tracksuit top fit. Frederica pointed out a pair of black jungle boots as well which made him look more like a insurgent in Chechnya than a lost American.

"Black or milk and sugar?" She asks him as he laces up his boots.

"Black." Karl says as she hands him a cup of warm coffee. "Thank you Frederica. You don't have to do any of this. I can't say it enough."

"Don't worry about it. I felt sorry for you." Frederica said bluntly. "And besides you caught me in a good mood with your joking."

"Joking?" Karl asked genuinely confused.

"You have a dark sense of humor and so do I." She said with a smirk. "I like that."

"I'm glad you do. Honestly I thought you were going to cut me up." He replied as he took a sip of coffee. It wasn't the best, but the dark brew seemed to bring life back into him.

"You took me by surprise when you asked to see my face, but why?" She asks as she takes a drink too.

"Respect mostly," He explains. "I'm old school and I want to see who my killer would be. Mainly to motivate you to actually kill or else I'll come back for you. I think Lamb of God put it perfectly, For a wounded man shall say to his assailant, "If I Die, You are forgiven. If I Live, I will kill you."" He chuckles a little for the dark tone of the subject.

Frederica smirks gives a little chuckle, "I believe I can sympathise with that." she agrees.

"If you don't mind me saying, but, I believe you do because of those scars on your neck." Karl says remarking on the scars on her throat.

"I don't, but don't bring it up again if you want to live." She replied harshly.

"Then you better kill me and I'll forgive you." He said winking at her. The two felt the conversation was half joking and half serious, though Frederica felt as if Karl was hiding something.

"You do have a dark sense of humor Mr. Dael." She says taking another sip.

"Thank you, as do you to Ms. Sawyer." Karl says with a smile. "What's the job?"

"Triad wants someone dead and made an example of. Some South African gun runner tried to move in on Triad territory." She explains. "I told Chang that I was bringing someone else with me to help and he approved it. This should be fun."

Karl noticed a twinkle in her eye when she finished explaining the job. She was after all, a cleaner, and it made some sense that she would be happy to be out and about on a job. He didn't exactly like the idea of killing someone for no reason other than moving on some gangs turf, but at this point he didn't have many legs to stand on. It would be dirty money, but it was money and he needed it. Maybe he would get somewhere to live with whatever he could get from this.

"Are you ok?" She asks him.

"Yeah." Karl replies quickly as he tries to get his mind off morality.

"Are you sure? You look troubled."

"You sound like you know me. How could you tell?" Karl replied with a faint chuckle.

"Your eyes." She said. The voice box didn't help her response as it sounded like it was coming from a creep rather than a goth girl.

"I am, but what does it matter?" Karl said defensively.

"I can't have someone who will hesitate during a job." She says in a serious tone.

"I'm not the man to hesitate." He replies coldly. "I just have to get use to the fact that this is a gang hit and not a government or corporate based hit. I'm at rock bottom."

"All a government is a gang. This isn't any different than me killing a man or a pig." Frederica said profoundly. "And don't feel bad for yourself, we are all at rock bottom here."

Karl couldn't respond to that negatively in anyway, even with sarcasm. She was right. Karl smiles, "I like you too Frederica."

She blushes, "Thank you."

The two leave U.G Pork thirty minutes later after Karl collected the two police revolvers and what remained of the gun belt and its ammo. One of the pistols he kept tucked in his waistband and another in a hip holster. The weather was still shit but at least it wasn't raining as the two stepped into a old black sedan, a beat up Mercedes W123, and drove off to the target area. From what Chang had told her it was only a couple of miles northwest of them so it should be a easy job. She had changed into her usual gear but with a Jack Skellington button on her apron.

"Boss Chang said this Afrikaner should be alone in a apartment north of us." She said directing him. "I just need you to hold him up while I search for anyone else. The Triad have paid off the police to look the other way, they are not fans of outsiders upsetting the order here."

The drove for nearly an hour until they found the place downtown. Karl looked around in the car for a pack of cigarettes to calm his nerves and managed to find one. He lit it with the cars built in lighter and began to check his revolvers. "This should be quick." Frederica assured him.

"Do you know what the first casualty of war is Frederica?" He asks her.

"No." She replies bluntly.

"Truth and the plan." Karl responds as he steps out of the car first. "What apartment number?"

"22." She says as she takes the chain saw out of the trunk.

"Is there a back door or anything he can escape from?"

"The windows, but I don't think he wants to hit the pavement." She replies as they go up the stairs.

"Triad say anything about guards or bystanders?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a soldier." She says with some annoyance.

"Intelligence is a wonderful thing when it's right and the people do their fucking job." He snorts as he draws his revolvers as they reach the door.

"Do they call you two hands too?" She chuckles.

"I'm pretty good with pistols, but the first rule of owning of revolver is the same with owning a Makarov. Always carry two." He smirks as he lines up on the door to breech. With a swift kick against the door handle it gives way and with in seconds Karl and Frederica catch the gunrunner sitting on his couch eating breakfast with two other men.

"Hands up or I'll shoot you in the fucking face." Karl shouts as he lays the muzzles on the two other men as Frederica appears with chainsaw rowling in the background. "What about these two?"

The three men stood up with hands raised high above them. It was unusual for criminals to give up this easy…

Frederica motions her hand cutting her throat. "WAIT! This is a misunderstanding! We'll pa-" Karl puts a bullet in both of the other mens heads. The South African drops to his knees begging for his life with tears in his eyes. Karl turns around as Frederica carves the South African up like a turkey on thanksgiving day. He tries to block out the screaming and prayed the man would pass out from the pain, but no. He didn't… The bastard screamed all the way until Frederica cut his head off. When she finishes he removed her mask with a devilish smile on her face.

"Put the other two sitting in the chairs at the dinner table." She orders him. He reluctantly does while Frederica puts the dismembered body parts on the table with silverware.

"The Triad always want to send a message before they have to act." Frederica explains. "I don't mind though. Its like sculpting a masterpiece out of marble."

"Whatever." Karl replies trying to avoid looking at the 'Dinner'. "Who do you think the other two were?"

"I don't know and I don't care." Frederica replies as she goes to the kitchen to wash her hands.

Karl couldn't shake a feeling from the two men trying to beg for their life. He couldn't remember what the sounded like when he rushed in, but what bothered him was how quickly they begged for their lives. Maybe they were cowards or they weren't meant to be here. "Do we have a timeline?" He asks her.

"Timeline? No." Frederica responds as she lathers her hands with soap. "Search them if you want. Its not like the police do anything here."

Karl nods and begins checking the apartment and the bodies. He digs into their coats and pants for wallets or something to give a clue to who these guys were. It was gruesome as the two dead men had already voided their bowls and a cocktail of shit and blood began leaking on the floor. This wasn't the first time he faced this smell, but he never got use to it. It didn't matter if it was in the confined quarts of a apartment, a malaria infested rice patty in Korea, or on the streets in any American city. It still turned his stomach. He found their wallets and liberated some US dollars as well as finding their ID's and passports.

"They're all South African… And related." Karl told her with a grave tone. "They're his kids…."

"WERE." Frederica replies coldly with a chuckle.

Karl blinks and shakes his head as he tries to process what he just did. A father and his sons died at his hand today for dirty money. "I hope we are getting drinks after this." He says as he walks to the window. Through the window he could see people walking down the street living their lives completely oblivious to the fact that a triple homicide just took place on their block. The sound of a family returning from errands entering the room next to them with children laughing and a mother trying to keep them in line echoed through the thin walls. It was like nothing had happened. He shuts the curtains and walks back over to Frederica until the sight of blood stains on the floor leading to the bedroom caught his attention. With revolvers ready he enters the room and to his horror he finds a dead girl no younger than Frederica laying on the floor with a knife in her stomach with her panties around her ankles. He goes back to the men he killed and looks at their hands and what remained of their faces to see scratch marks and cuts on their hands.

"They killed her…" Karl said with slowly building rage.

"Killed who?" Frederica asks him as she raps up her work clothes in a trash bag.

"There is a girl in the other room with a knife in her belly." He tells her. "These guys killed her, raped her, and ate breakfast in the other fucking room."

"Don't let it get to you." She says frankly. "Karma is a bitch."

"You are." Karl says making a slight joke. She chuckles too and they both leave the apartment shortly after. They drive away from the apartment and cruise around for a hour until Frederica hands him a piece of paper with a phone number. "When you see a phone booth I want you call Mr. Chang and inform him of the job. My voice box is starting to die and the Triad only like to see you in person when its important."

"Have you ever met with them in person?" Karl asks her as he spots phone booth near a brothel.

"No. Shenhua is on better terms with the Triad since she is a career assassin." She said with a hint of jealousy. "I'm just a cleaner."

She tried to say something else but nothing came out. She sweats a bit and when Karl caught her acting strange she buried her face in her hands. "Hey, you ok?" He asks her. But she doesn't say anything as she throws her voice box into the floorboard in a rage. He pulls over to the side of the road by the pay phone and pulls the box from the floor board. The batteries had a energy bar on them which allowed him to check the power. They were dead. He puts his hand on her shoulder and to his surprise she looks up at him with tears in her eyes.

"It will be alright Frederica. I know what to say and I'll get you more batteries. Just hang in there." He tells her like a father talking to his daughter.

She wipes her tears away and smirks as she mouths 'Thank you' to him. He gets out and places a call to Mr. Chang's office.

"State your business." A man said on the other line.

"SITREP for Mr. Chang on the South African gun runner." Karl replies as if he was talking to a commanding officer in the military, a serious cut throat tone.

"Go ahead."

"He's gone. Whoever finds him will know not to fuck with the Triad."

"Good. Who are you? This was the cleaners job, did she-"

"I'm a new gun to this place. I work for the cleaner and her voice box is dead at the moment."

"Name?"

"Dael, Karl Dael."

"Well Mr. Dael, inform the cleaner that her, I mean both of your, payments will arrive at her residence in thirty minutes time. Goodbye Mr. Dael."

The call ended and Karl returned back to the car promptly. He informed her about the call and told her that he would get her more batteries before they went to the bar. She smiles and points to a store across the street. He smiles and gets the hint as he takes the voice box and puts it in his pocket. "I'll be back. Drinks are on me, alright?"

She gives him a thumbs up as he exits the car to go to the store.

 _Later that night…_

"Yellow Flag?" Karl asks as they parked the car outside Roanapur's most popular bar and brothel for the underworld.

"It's a brothel and bar. You will enjoy it." Frederica says getting out of the car.

"Is that a order, boss?" He says with a smirk.

"Yes." She replies chuckling.

"Yes ma'am. Haha."

The two walk through the door and all eyes were on him as they walked to the bar. A gun on every table, a hooker in every lap, and smoke filled the air like a napalm fire burning up the jungles of Vietnam. Places like this matched the stories of his Grandfather who served in Nam. The bartender was a man named Bao who had more of an attitude problem than the woman that haunted Karl. "Sawyer, Whos this prick?" He asks her.

"A associate of mine from out of town." She replies as they take a seat at the end of the bar. "Rum and coke please Bao."

"Nice to meet you Bartender." Karl replies with equal attitude to Bao. "Beer, Darkest and largest you got."

"You look like trouble." Bao grunts as he pours Karl's beer. "Don't think of doing anything stupid."

"Calm down. I'm not here to cause trouble, only end it if it comes my way." He replied paying in American dollars. "Keep the change."

Bao inspects the fifty dollar bill in the light to check if it were counterfeit. After he realizes its real he pockets the bill with a suspicious gaze on the man. "Are you a tourist?" He asks Karl until he spots the revolver on his hip. "Mercenary?"

"Mercenary." Karl replies as he takes a drink. "Vietnamese?"

"Yeah, What about it?" Bao says with a attitude.

"Nothing, Just curious. Yellow flag for the name with three red lines above the name made me wonder where you were from." Karl said as he put the beer down. "Who did you fight for?"

"ARVN." He replied coldly.

Karl nods in respect and lets out his hand to the bartender, "Karl Dael, Pleasure to meet one of the ARVN troops my grandfather spoke about. He use to tell me how hard you guys were and how the Government was shit."

"Bao. Pleasure is all yours, don't talk about that around me and keep your distance. You look like trouble like Revy. Don't destroy my bar." Bao said with a grunt as he turned away and left the two alone.

"He isn't exactly friendly to anyone." Frederica told him as she took a sip of her drink.

Karl scanned the bar to get a feel for the room and plan any escape if needed. He could feel the eyes of the patrons on him from all directions sizing him up like a den of wolves on a freshly wounded animal. From what he could see the bar itself was broken down into a food chain with more lower class looking criminals sitting in the middle of the room while the more higher up guys sat in the booths. One booth was full of Asian men dressed in suit and tie who he presumed to be Triad or Yakuza. Another had Russians, he knew because he spent a lot of time with Russians in his early years of contracting, in suits and ties as well with a couple wearing long coats commonly worn in Russia. Toward the door were Colombians as they were mostly speaking loudly in Spanish and wearing mostly white suits with Hawaiian shirts. Another table was full of Italians who were eyeing him the hardest with one of them locking eyes with him.

"The fuck you looking at?" The Italian shouts from across the bar.

"The fuck you looking at?' Karl repeats to the man.

The man get up nearly falling over in the process of walking over to him. He was clearly drunk and Karl chuckles as the Italian throws himself against the bar dramatically to scare him. Karl rolls his eyes and the prick tries to intimidate him, "Do youes knows whos the FUCK I AM?!"

"A drunk wannabe who can't stand up straight." Karl replies as he takes a drink.

The drunk tries to size him up and starts trying to put words together to yell at him. Karl stands up and to the 5ft 3inch Italian he was was 6 ft plus of muscle. The Italian gets quiet and his buddies start getting up from their booth in anticipation for the inevitable ass beating their buddy was going to get.

"Use your words." Karl says as he lightly pushes the man onto the floor. "You spray tan guido douche. You don't even look like a real Italian."

"The fuck yo-yo-youes knows." The man babbles as he tries to draw a Glock from his jacket. Karl snatches the pistol from him and disassembled it in front of him before dumping the parts on him.

"Get out of my face." Karl says leaving the drunk on the floor and returning to bar with Frederica.

"What are the grease balls doing over there?" Karl asks her as he puts his revolver on the table next to his drink.

"Two of them are coming this way." She says with a annoyed tone. "This was a bad idea."

"I didn't kill the guy." Karl argues.

"No coming here." She said as the Italians past them to get their drunk buddy off the floor.

As they picked him up the drunk starts fighting them and starts going toward Karl. "You disrespectful fuck! I'm Antonio-" Antonio didn't get to finish his name as a .38 Special slug passed through his heart killing him instantly. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he went on autopilot and before he knew it the bar had cleared out. The bodies of three men laid on the ground and the Italians attempted to draw their weapons but were cut down in a hail of well placed bullets. Two of them gave up and ran while Karl reloaded. The bar was intact, but the bodies didn't help for the overall aesthetics of the bar.

"HEY MOTHERFUCKER!" Bao shouted as he brandished a Ithaca 37 shotgun at Karl. "YOU BETTER PAY FOR-"

Karl got up and walked over to the corpses to raid their pockets taking out almost four thousand US dollars in cash. He gave it all to Bao and sat down without a word said as he enjoyed his drink while reloading the revolvers. Bao didn't say anything to him from then on and only served him drinks to keep the man happy. He knew he was trouble as soon as he stepped in, but unlike his 'favor' customer, Revy, he didn't destroy the bar and actually paid for the damages.

"I apologize for the mess Mr. Bao." Karl said in a conversational tone. "I tried to keep my shot groups tight. Lucky for you I didn't give them the chance to fire back. We'll get rid of the bodies."

"No-No… Don't worry- worry about it…" Bao said stuttering with fear.

"Are you sure?" Frederica asks.

"Yes! Yes! I'm sure, just don't destroy my bar!" Bao plead as he poured him another drink.

Karl lit a cigarette to ease his nerves. He offered to Frederica who turned him down and then called to Bao to offer him one. The bartender took it and stayed to enjoy it, albeit hesitantly.

"Italians, Russians, Colombians, and Chinese." Karl said listing down the higher class he saw here. "Anyone else I need to know of."

"Just the Rip-Off Church and Lagoon Company. The rest are all small time." Bao told him.

"Does the Government even control this city?" He replied.

"No, This city is completely under the control of the four factions here. Between you and me, I think the CIA runs the show here. They did this same shit in Saigon back during the war. Sometimes I forget what year it is." Bao said as he pours himself a drink.

"They might. I wouldn't be surprised if they did." Karl says agreeing with him. "But you got my attention about the church, What do they do?"

"Gun runners mostly. Word on the street is they might run drugs too, but thats all rumors."

 _One hour later..._

The door to the yellow flag opens again with three people, two women and a man, coming in for drinks. One was a blonde bombshell, A half chinese woman with a large tribal tattoo and twin handguns in armpit holsters, and strangely a Japanese businessman. The two women were arguing while the businessmen hung out behind them. By the mannerism and their obnoxious behavior they were both American.

"Bao! Bacardi! Rock wants to get his ass kicked again!" The tattooed woman shouted.

"Revy we are almost out after the last one!" Bao shouts in protest.

' _So thats the Revy the bar man was talking about.'_ Karl thinks to himself as he gauges her on his own personal threat level. Out of ten she was about a nine by her body language. He turns his eyes to the blonde who had a holster like Revy but with a Glock 17L instead of 92FS's. ' _The blonde is about a 7, but she seems off. She has a watered down accent from my part of the country, but more refined with Northern wording. Hmmm.'_

' _The businessman is looking at me, Rock is what I think she called him. I can't get a read on him. He looks like a zero, but the eyes say ten. I better watch him.'_

Rock looks over at the man in the tracksuit top drinking a dark beer out of a stein. He gave off the vibe of a Hotel Moscow soldier and his eye confirmed it. The attire didn't say Hotel Moscow and neither did the RTP issue revolvers. He wasn't a big fish like Chang or Balalaika and he wasn't small time either, Though he was sharing a drink with Frederica Sawyer, The Triad's cleaner.

' _The smell of gunpowder is fresh as is the smell of blood. Their are marks on the floor and holes in the Italians table, but no shell casings. The holes are smaller than 9mm… He did that. I can't read him, but he seems like trouble. I hope Revy ignores him…'_ Rock thinks to himself.

The two men catch each other's eye and say nothing aloud. But the eyes of both men spoke a language that both the Japanese businessman and mercenary could both understand. They were outsiders in the city of the dead.


	3. Chapter 3: Gunfire and house calls

_**Writing this has been fun. Honestly I'm loving how its going and after this I can actually get this thing moving.  
**_ _ **Please Review, I don't care if its bad.  
~With love Dresner. **_

* * *

Frederica left Karl at U.G Pork for the night while she returned home to the apartment she shared with Shenhue and Lotton. She hitched a ride from Rock, the Japanese businessman, while Revy and Eda stayed at the Yellow flag drinking. The money Karl took from the South Africans and the Italians covered their drinks and for gas. Rock didn't mind but the large man with police revolvers passed out in the back seat of Benny's car wasn't comforting, even with the famous cleaner next to him didn't help. A word wasn't said the whole way to U.G Pork or to the apartment, but Rock was full of questions.

Frederica on the other hand just wanted to get away from meat packing factory to shower and rest.

Rock broke the silence and stops her before she leaves the car. "Hey, I know we don't know each other that well. But who is that guy you are with? I haven't seen him before around town or with the others. You hang out mostly with Shenhue and Lotton, where did he come from?"

"I wish I knew where he came from, but I don't know." Frederica says a she recollects the night he came over. The booze and the lack of sleep didn't help her memory. "He showed up in my cutting room washing his hands. Said he wanted to see my face before he died, surprisingly. He's a gentleman, like you, but kills people. I think he thinks I'm cute." She giggles as they reach the apartment. "Thank you Rock, have a good night."

Rock wasn't satisfied with that answer and grabs her on the shoulder before she exits the car. "What is his name?"

"Karl Dael." She says. "I'm leaving, don't stop me again. I haven't slept in days." She said with a annoyed tone.

Rock nods and apologizes as she leaves the car. He takes out his cell phone and makes a phone call to the closest thing he could call a friend besides those at Lagoon Company, The leader of Hotel Moscow: Ms. Balalaika.

She enters the apartment to find a note from Shenhue saying she was on business in Hanoi while another was from Lotton saying he was taking a acting class. She chuckles about the latter and goes to the bathroom to shower. It had been about two days since she last showered since Karl showed up in her cutting room as she called it. It was a interesting two days having competent company who could handle themselves and not do anything flashy, but wasn't against showing some skill with his own tool of this bloody trade. Older men were not her thing, she considered herself asexual, but for a old man he was rather cute. As she washes herself she looks over her scars on her wrists and thighs from when she was a pre-teen.

She tried… She tried to make the pain go away… But no matter how much she cut or how deep she dug into her arms, thighs, or even her stomach it never went away. Maybe it were the beatings or the crushing loneliness of growing up in boarding schools across the former commonwealth. India, Australia, and finally Hong Kong but no matter what part of the world her parents would send her to it wouldn't change her. Frederica was the black sheep of her family and they let her know it. The cut on her throat was another story.

* * *

Karl awoke from a drunken daze on the couch at U.G Pork. He still wasn't all there as when he tried to stand he collapses back onto the couch with the room beginning to spin. The laughter of a woman caught his attention and he tried to respond by raising himself up but he couldn't from the heavy drinking of that night. When his head went down he felt a change in positions and noticed something above him. A soft hand caressed his face as the silhouette of a woman appeared in the flickering fluorescent light.

"A little tipsy, aren't we?" She asked him, her accent thick as swamp water. He knew who she was right then and there, but he was to drunk to react.

"A little Claudia…" He replies slurring his words terribly as he fumbled to get to his revolvers.

She gently takes his hand back to his chest and takes the revolvers away, "I'm not here to hurt you, my love. I'm only here to talk."

"Why am I here?... I tried to-"

"I know you tried, but I can't let you do that. I won't let you." Claudia says as she runs her hands through his hair. The gentle touch soothed his mind and soul. He closes his eyes as he slowly begins to drift off into dreamland. But he fought it and fought it hard.

"Why won't you?!" He demands.

"I love you and you love me." Claudia replies innocently.

"I killed her… I killed them… Why?" He said as she brushed her hair out of her face.

"Forgive yourself honey, Move on." Claudia says to him as she kisses him on the forehead.

"Only when…. Only when I die…" Karl says as he passes out in her lap.

"Dying ain't way to make a living honey." She says as she disappears into the night.

* * *

Frederica puts on something comfy and sits on the couch to watch a movie or before passing out. She's always had trouble sleeping and it wasn't from her occupation. She turned on some kind of vampire movie and started to fall asleep when the phone started to ring. She grabs her voice box and walks to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi there chere, How are you tonight?" The caller asks politely in a strange French accent.. ' _I don't remember any of my clients being French…'_

"I'm fine… Who is this?" She asks as the caller chuckles slightly in the phone.

"I'm glad you are doing well, honey, especially after that spell of trouble you got y'all selves into this mornin with those gentleman. You know they picked that working girl up from the Yellow Flag the night before? Sugar didn't have a chance when they slipped her a needle… Bless her heart." The caller went on.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Frederica demands her heart racing. Frederica wasn't a fan of stalkers, but who was?

"And those mafiosos! You know they weren't Italian? Another girl said those men were from New Jersey! The nerve of some men! I would let my Karl know that there is a posse of rather cross men coming to that slaughterhouse of yours and honey, they ain't there just give him a house warming gift." The woman told her as her voice grew hard and serious. "You better start running chere."

Frederica leaps to her room to get her shoes and runs out the door.

* * *

Karl on the other hand didn't get warning. The doors were kicked in and the fight began with gunfire and Italian slurs. Gun fire could sober a man up rather quickly and Karl proved it as he rolled onto the floor and drew his guns as the clicking of expensive loafers and the odour of god awful cologne overpowering the lingering smell of blood in the air. He fumbles around to check his revolvers and tries to come up with a man as the adrenaline began to flow through his body burning up the booze in his system.

"Come out your murdering bastard!" One of them yelled. "You kill our boys and we'll kill your whole fucking family!"

He couldn't tell if they were going through the front door or the back. But he crawled to the office and waited for them. There was a few of them, about seven or eight of them as far as he could tell from the office. The front door flew open and the Italians in the building shouted in response. Karl pops up and to his surprise it was Frederica.

"Frederica!" He says in a firm voice to get her attention.

She rushed to him with a relieved expression, "Are you ok?!" She asks him with worry in her mechanical voice.

"Yeah I'm alright, just a bit wired from the Italians breaking in. Don't worry I haven't shot the place up yet." Karl says as he listens for the Italians. "Where's your weapon?"

"In the cutting room, down the hall." She tells him. "If we get there they will run. Everyone in this city knows me for the chainsaw."

Karl smirks and looks over the desk out the window to the hallway as three Italians walked through the door into the main hallway. They only had pistols and one MAC submachine gun. "Good enough for me." He said as he set himself at the doorway against the wall. He motioned for her to stay back as he waited for them to get in the right spot. Once they bunched up just right he pies the corner with both revolvers in hand with one at the ready and another in wait. The three men couldn't react quick enough and all three fall to ground in a bloody mess. Karl throws down the revolvers and takes up the MAC and one of the Glock 17's. He takes what ammo he could get from them and motions for Frederica to follow him. The clicking of extensive shoes against tile could be heard all around as well as obscenities and the locking of actions on pistols as well as open bolt submachine guns.

"I hear eight sets of footsteps and about four of them weren't ready for this, amateurs, all of them." Karl remarks as he readies the MAC-10 and the Glock. "I'll cover you. Make it to the room and start killing everyone till they ain't a single one left."

"With pleasure." Frederica says with a sadistic smile.

He nods as he deploys the stock on the MAC and busts open the door. Two men were barley hidden with cover and paid the price for stupidity as he puts a burst of .45 ACP into each of their chests. His movements were quick as he takes cover to check his magazine as the panic fire from the Italians confirmed Karl's assumption of their skill. He pops out again and fires on two more but takes a more aggressive stance and pushes forward keeping the burst on their cover forcing them to panic. When the MAC ran dry he drew the glock and fired again killing one, wounding another, and forced another to run away in terror. He falls over only for Karl to kneecap him as Frederica runs to the cutting room to get her chainsaw. The man on the ground screams and pisses himself as Frederica appears with the chainsaw.

"Anymore of you here?" Karl asks him as Frederica walks slowly over to him.

"Three more cars worth!" He screams. "Our Capo just called them in after you just waxed us! You're a dead man!"

"What's with the response? Why so many? Why not bring a couple of guys to break my legs? I thought you were the mafia?" Karl shouts at the man with the MAC pointed at the mans balls.

"That was our old Capo! Antonio was the downtown capo and The Jaws right hand here!"

"Cut him up." Karl says losing interest in him as he gathers more magazines and ammo. Frederica doesn't hesitate and starts with his legs.

"CRAWL!" She grunts from her voice box. The man crawls as fast as he could out the back door screaming. The screams from the other guys outside made some shout at them while others fired back.

"Why did you shoot them at the bar?" Frederica demanded to know.

"I don't know." Karl told her as he loaded one of the eight MAC-10 mags he managed to scavenge off the dead. "Autopilot more than likely. It didn't register with me till the bodies hit the ground."

"I should have known that was a Capo or some kind of high ranking member. The Italians usually keep to themselves after some shit with the Russians." Frederica said as the sounds of footsteps gathered at the side door.

"MOVE." Karl said as he took positions at a doorway. Frederica took position in a smaller supply room with the engine running on the chainsaw. The Italians broke threw the door with guns blazing. Ten men entered the hallway focused only on Karl as he falls back acting as bait. The fools took it as Frederica appeared almost out of thin air and cut them all down with her saw. Any that tried to react were either to slow or were shot by Karl. She ducks back into the closet as Karl moves to the door and begins to scan across the three sedans outside the slaughterhouse. Nothing there besides two men hiding behind the cars with nothing but .380's and a pocket knife. He jumps on the hood of the nearest sedan and hits one of them with a burst of .45 ACP. The other one held a flip phone crying with the contact marked "Boss" on speed dial.

He presses the hot barrel of the MAC against the man's forehead. "Listen to me and listen to me good. Either we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which is it going to be buddy?"

"Wha-What?" The man replies as he begins the scream with the hot muzzle melting the skin on his forehead.

"Either you call your boss and say you got me… Then I let you go. Or…"

Karl looks over at Frederica as she moves over to the man's balls with the chainsaw screaming. "Or my friend here runs from your balls to your skull with her saw while your boss listens."

The man doesn't hesitate and agrees to Karl's proposal. After letting him calm down the man makes the call and lets his boss know everything that happened. Once he was done Karl kept his word and let him go. To make sure he raided the pockets of his dead friends and paid him off. He didn't know if they needed proof but Karl gave him a old ID from back when he was a young guy in the US.

"Give them that if they don't believe you. Then if you know what's good for you get the hell out of dodge. I already killed your friends and I don't want anymore blood on my hands. NOW GO!"

The man scurried away like the rat he was in the nearest car. He was still visibly terrified and Karl prayed he would leave this place. Frederica turned the chainsaw off and took a deep tired breath as the sun began to rose over the skyline. Karl looks over at one of the cars, a 1987 Buick GTX painted all black, and looked back over to Frederica. She looked tired, old, and ragged. He knew she hadn't slept much in over two days or so and he couldn't help but feel bad for starting this mess.

"Where were you staying at?" He asks her.

"At a friends." She says looking at the beautiful sun rise.

"I'm taking you there and your taking a day off." Karl says without giving her chance to speak as he steps into the car and starts it. Frederica gets in and the two go back to the apartment. After a few minutes of driving they return to the apartment where Frederica directs him to the coffee machine.

"You need to sleep to, remember?" She says with a bitchy tone.

"So do you, but I got questions to ponder." Karl remarks as he starts the coffee machine.

"Like what?"

"How in the hell you have such great timing? You got their just in time back there." Karl says as he drinks water straight from the foset.

"Someone called me." She said with a almost worried tone. "A woman with a thick accent, it sounded like French, called me and informed me about the Italians. She even said something about our job yesterday."

Karl's face grew ridged and serious. "French… Did it seem off? Did she call you chere?"

"Yes. It was off and she did call me chere. Her accent was thick and the way she was speaking sounded almost like you. Her wording was very off, very American too." Frederica said trying to remember where exactly she heard that accent from.

"Really hmm? Hmmm…" Karl said as he ponders. The coffee was ready and he poured himself a large cup before taking a seat on the couch.

"She call you 'my Karl'. Like she knew you…" She said with a yawn.

He took a swig from the large glass and looked at her with a concerned gaze. "Frederica, sweetie, you need to clean yourself up and get some rest. I'll talk with you when you get up. Just let me think about it all."

She tries to argue, but once again Karl, like a older brother, overrules her. Frederica knew he was hiding something from her, you can't hiding anything from her, but she was to tired to argue with him. She showers again and heads straight to bed. While Karl on the other hand drinks the large cup in a couple of large gulps. When he was sure that she was asleep he begins to talk to himself, or at least he thinks he is.

"You visited me in my dreams now, that's a first. You torment me at my worst and when I try to put it all away you come back to haunt me." Karl says as he takes a cigarette out of his jacket. He looks around the apartment and finds that there was a balcony. Letting himself out he lights his smoke and takes a long drag. "I know your here. I can feel you in the air."

"You have an energy to you, an aura, you just can't hide from me like you use to when I was young and dumb." He says as he draws the Glock from his coat. He points at the wall where he cast a shadow.

"You don't have to come out." Karl says with daggers coming off his tongue with every word. "I loved you and I loved them. You know this. Then why do you do it? Let me die. Just let me die."

He sticks the gun under this chin. "Either come out or I'll force you out."

His body grows weak and heavy. The gun peels itself out of his hands and rests in his jacket it. He lost control of his legs and arms as he walked to the couch. Karl tries to fight it, but it was in vain as he lays on the couch. Then she appeared…


	4. Chapter 4: Black Hunter, Red Russians

_**Its not much and its very late. But its something. Life is picking up and so is work. Hope you all enough  
**_  
 _ **With Love~ Dresner**_

* * *

He awoke to a empty room with the angry ring of the wall phone blaring in the background. What was left in the coffee pot he poured another cup and took a long drink of cold black coffee before answering the phone.

"Good morning, Who is this?" Karl says rather rudely. He hates not having hot coffee in the morning.

"Ah Mr. Karl, I presume." The cool voice of Mr. Chang says. "Good morning indeed, but I believe you mean afternoon. I hope the Italians didn't keep you up to late last night."

"They didn't last to long." Karl said coldly as he takes another drink. "Amatures at best, really. I'm surprised you called after what happened. Frederica is taking a day off after all that."

"I wouldn't doubt the Italians that much Karl. After all I am talking to a dead man." Chang said pointing out Karl's own stupidity.

"And leaving the Triad hanging isn't the best decision either." Karl replies. "Even so, Its just the Italians. I cut through them last night and if they want to fight again then I'll be their huckleberry."

"Not in my city." Chang said with a cutthroat tone. "There is a balance here and you won't bet tipping the balance either. The last outsider that tried that left the city missing some critical parts and my fellow criminals won't be as generous with you. Is that understood?"

"As long as they don't try picking another fight with me, then yes. I do understand."

"Good dog." Chang says arrogantly. "Now that event yesterday showed to some of us that you're capable enough to use the other half of your brain in a gunfight. I have some work that needs to be done with the Rip-Off Church and Lagoon Company is busy with a task from Hotel Moscow. Prove yourself to me and maybe I won't have to think about putting a bounty on your head."

"What kind of task?" He asks him, ignoring the dog comment.

"A delivery to Hotel Moscow." Chang explains. "I owe Ms. Balalaika for her help in a more recent event here with a maid. I'm sure you have heard of the now retired Bloodhound since you came here. Well Ms. Balalaika has called in a favor for that event so in order of me to keep the peace around here I must handle my debts."

"Whos my contact with the Russians?" Karl asks getting to the details of the deal.

"Eager, Sawyer was right about you." Chang remarks. "Your contact is a Mr. Boris, Balalaika's right hand. You will meet with him tonight to inspect the cargo. If anything is left out try to make friends this time."

"And the Cargo?" He asks him.

"Mr. Boris will inform you of the agreement when the time comes." Chang replies. "The lines here are clean of any intervention from the government, Its the rest of the city I'm worried about."

Karl smirks and gives off a slight chuckle of disbelief. "Why me? Why trust a outsider?"

"You're file came back clean and my sources say you didn't pick the fight with the Italians. Sawyer also gave you a clean referral as well." Chang told him. "And why would I spare any of my men when I can pay a hired gun to do the heavy lifting?"

"Sure, I'll take your money." Karl agrees ignoring the arrogance again. "What did my file say?"

"You should know, Mercenary." Chang replies coolly. "Meet with Boris at 1900. You've got enough time to get yourself cleaned up and ready. Also you might want to change those revolvers out for something modern while you're talking with the church."

"Thank you and will do." Karl says ending the call. As quickly as the call came he began to get a pot of coffee ready and took his first shower in days. He felt it was going to be a long day, but the money would be worth it as would building on the reputation he had so far. The last few days haven't been the best, but he hoped for the best… Even with her lingering around like a ghost. After cleaning up and making coffee he heads out the door with a note on the door for Sawyer.

 _Later that day, 1900_

The darkness brought a slight chill over the city. He felt a chill race down his spine as he watched three ZIL trucks lead by two Mercedes sedans. The trucks backed themselves behind the church and men stepped out from under the canvas covers with Kiparis submachine guns slung under neither their arms. The first sedan pulled up beside him and four sets of hard eyed men stared him down. Karl took note of one of the man with the large scar on his face and the slight bulge of a Makarov under his sport coat. The man took note as well of the MAC machine pistol hanging on a makeshift sling and the three bulges of pistols under his jacket.

"Mr. Boris, I assume?" Karl asks breaking the ice as he plans his next move if these men wanted to waste him. Though as he weighs his options he notices the next car pull over on the gate and more men, this time with heavier weapons of the Kalashnikov family locked down the whole area.

Boris grunts and exits the cars with his men who take potions in other areas around the church. "Come. We have business to attend to." He says leading the way.

Karl follows him toward the church as he takes note of the number of men around him. He noticed something special about these men from the way they carried themselves. They weren't civilian in any sense of the word or even run of the mill mobsters by the arms they carried. They moved and took positions like soldiers and their arms, rather rare OTS-02 Kiparis submachine guns, spoke of that of internal troops of the Russian Federation or Spetsnaz commandos. It gave him a strange combination of nostalgia and anxiety as it reminded him of his past working with Russian PMC's with Claudia in his youth as well as the danger that comes to working with other PMC's.

"Mr. Chang said you would inform me of the cargo we are handling Mr. Boris." Karl says as they reach the door.

"Hmmm." Boris grunts as the door opens by the hand of a blonde nun.

"On time as usual, Hotel Moscow." The woman replied with an obvious American accent. "She's in the back and Rico has the paperwork."

"Good." Boris replies as he and the blonde take lead. Karl hangs back looking for exits and any more soldiers lingering around in the dark.

"Who's tall, dark, and skittish?" The woman asked him as she eyed him and the Mac-10 under his shoulder.

"Skittish no." Karl replied as he spotted a couple of exits.

"Gun for hire." Boris said bluntly.

The blonde rolls her eyes, "Chang needs to start pulling his weight if this 'Cold War' between you two is going to last."

Boris says nothing. Karl picked up on the Russians obvious disdain for the woman and to a lesser extent the church itself. Karl decided to stay quiet as he followed the two to another room toward the back of church where a older nun with a eye patch sat with a tea set in front of her.

"Ahh Boris," The older woman greeted him from her seat as she began pouring the cups of tea. "On time as usual. Who's the other young man with you?"

"Karl Dael, sister." Karl says introducing himself as Boris and him took a seat. He extended his hand to the older woman and she shook his hand firmly.

"Sister Yolanda." Yolanda said introducing herself to him. "What a polite young man, Did Mr. Chang send you?"

"Yes Sister," Karl replied. "His usual runners and the Lagoon Company, I believe that is their name, are busy today. So he sent me."

"Great another outsider." The blonde snorted. "And another smooth talking one as well."

"Do not mind Eda. She just has her own way of speaking to others." Yolanda says as she offers tea to Karl and Boris. Boris and him took their tea while Eda present a manifest to Boris.

"Everything should be in order. If you want your 'friend' and I can review it with the rest of the _Visotoniki_." Eda offers.

"Go ahead." Boris says to her. "Sister Yolanda and I have business to discuss regarding the rest of the deal."

Karl finishes the tea and goes with Eda over to the next room as the other two spoke in private.

Once the door firmly closed Yolanda poured another cup of tea for her and her guest. "How is your Kapitan Mr. Boris?"

"The Kapitan is in good health as usual." Boris replies as he sips on the tea. "Even after the episode with the maid and the Americans, she has moved onto more pressing manors abroad."

"Such as?" Yolanda asks.

"Classified." Boris replies.

" _M_ _askirovka_ can only protect you for so much, Mr. Boris." Yolanda responds as she takes another sip of tea. "God knows all."

Boris grunts, ignoring the statement.

" _Your god only knows so much_ …" A voice from the corner adds to the conversation.

The nun took him over to the storage building where eight large pallets of shipping crates with old soviet markings and some German marked ones as well.

"Chang owes them a rather large debt for taking care of the last outsider who wanted to start trouble here." Eda explains as she cracks open one of the crates revealing factory fresh East German MPi-Akm-74, AK-74, still in packing grease. "And since he couldn't get the real deal from the old empire, he took it from Berlin. As well as magazines and ammo. All German as well."

"Anything else?" Karl asks as he takes one of them out of the crate to inspect it.

"Grenades, four DSHK machine guns, and 23 RPG-16's." Eda lists off from another manifest.

"Damn." Karl remarks as he puts the AK74 back in the crate. "I'm jealous." He checks the rest of the crates to confirm the load out.

"Don't get use to them, Cowboy, thats hotel moscow's now." Eda says as Boris and Yolanda entered the storage area. With a quick signal the doors leading outside opened and men began loading the pallets into the trucks. "Maybe if you live long enough you might get something new."

"Everything in order?" Boris asks Karl.

"Yeah, Everything is here. All former East German hardware still in package." Karl reports back.

"Good." Boris replies as he leaves out the door toward his Mercedes sedan. "Follow me. Your part isn't finished here."

"Good luck, Gunslinger." Eda says wishing him an almost flirtatious goodbye under all the sarcasm.

Karl nods and follows the Russian outside as his men piled into the trucks and cars with hast. He goes to his own car but two of the Russians stop him. "You will accompany me to the halfway point. Do not worry about your vehicle, it will be taken back to your quarters with the cleaner."

He wanted to ask how he knew about his current 'home', if he could call it that, but he remembered that it wasn't kosher to ask awkward questions especially in a place like this. He simply nods and follows him outside. As they moved closer to the door he was encircled by three of the foot soldiers and his weapons were seized from him.

"You will not need those where we are going Mr. Dael." Boris says as one of his soldiers put a black hood over his head and the butt of a rifle knocking him out cold.

Boris then ordered the men to put him in the trunk of the car. The men complied and quickly threw Karl into the trunk as a strange woman approached Boris. One of the men caught a glimpse of a tattoo on Karl's neck and wanted to confirm what it was, but his comrade caught his attention before he could confirm what he saw. The man sat in the car with him comrades as the woman and Boris spoke outside. He couldn't get a good look at the woman outside but he recognize the silhouette and the stance of the woman from a life he thought he left behind.

"Viktor?" His friend calls his name. "You ok?"

"Da," Viktor replies as he pulls his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. "Its just- Its not my night tonight."

"Why?" The other guy asked. "It just started. After the boss lets us go we're going to Yellow Flag."

Viktor groans and takes a deep drag off the cigarette as the woman parts ways with Boris. He gets in the car and orders the driver to lead off the rest of the convoy to their arms dump out of the city. No one says a word as they drive off into the night. Viktor tries to forget what he thinks he saw on the mans in the trunk neck. But it gnawed at him like a rat trying to escape a burning house. He looks at his own tattoo below the wrist and begins to wonder…

" _Chernyy okhotnik?"_

Boris calls Chang to confirm that the deal was complete. Chang didn't ask about the man in the trunk other than making a off hand comment about how the cleaner was a few dollars richer. The harden non-commissioned officer didn't laugh at his joke and only replied by hanging up the phone. Boris knew about Chang's past as former Hong Kong cop that went rogue and his position as a admin officer in the Triad only sealed his hatred for the man, a buddy killer and a paper pusher is a despicable combination. He was use to doing deals like this in the underworld, but the woman who spoke of the man in the trunk shook him to the core. The phone vibrates in his pocket and the number of the Captain caught his attention.

"Kapitan." Boris responds.

"Sergeant," Balalaika replies. "Report."

"The cargo is secure and in-route to the drop point. Along with a secondary objective as well, possible HVT."

"HVT mhmm?..." Balalaika says in a curious tone. "Take him to slag pit and contact Butusov regarding this HVT's background."

"Yes Kapitan." Boris says as they took a turn away from the convoy.

"HVT?" Viktor asks the guys in the car. "Who could it be?"

Boris says nothing as he gazes at the passing countryside. The light of the instruments give off just enough light for him to see his tired reflection and the large scar across his face.

"If you are who the woman says you are…. Then Sofiya may have peace…."


	5. Chapter 5: Five Star Accommodation

_**Pushing out another chapter. Hope everyone is enjoying the writing and I'm actually getting the characters right. I'm amazed no one has reviewed yet telling me I suck or something along those line. Or even something good. Whatever. As long as some people are reading it I will call that a victory.  
Enjoy this chapter and the fun I had writing it. **_

_With Love ~Dresner_

* * *

The Russians threw a bucket of ice water on Karl awaking him in a shock. Intense light from flood light overloaded his eyes nearly blinding him. He tries to move but finds out that he was bound to a metal chair with handcuffs. A sharp breeze alerted him to his lack of shirt and from what limited vision he had he saw black stickers on his chest.

" _Bastards… That snake Chang sold me out… Fucking Russians too…."_

He could almost hear the voice of Claudia singing in the distance around him as well as some chatter in Russian. But his horrible headache kept him from listening in.

" _Fucker hit me real good… Better return the favor..."_

The cold soft hand of a hard woman grabs his face and thrusts it upward. A woman with heavy scarring on her face and long blonde hair seizes his attention and studies him intensely.

"Where were you 14 June 1983?" The voice of Boris barked.

"I wasn't anywhere." Karl snorted. The rush of intense electricity raced through his body causing his whole body to flex all at once. The pain was brutal, but nothing compared to the gulag. Boris stops and asks again and Karl repeats it.

"Your name is Imran Basayev, Chechen KGB defector, and member of the Mujaheddin." Boris barked again.

"I'm not a fucking Chechen." Karl hissed. Boris responded by giving him another hit of electricity.

"This is? Is this all you got?" Karl taunted them. "The gulag made this look like foreplay."

"Do you remember me?" The woman asked him in a conversational tone as she leaned over to look him in the eyes.

"I only remember two women in my life." Karl says attempting to catch his breath before Boris shocks him again. "And you ain't one of them."

"Sergeant." She says with a heavy Russian accent, her voice boiling over with repressed rage. "Bring me the shemagh."

"Yes Kaptain."

A shemagh was wrapped around his face and Boris angled his face to the captain. She stares at him for a moment before taking the shemagh off of him. "Its not him… What did the woman tell you?"

"Kaptain," Boris explains. "The woman told me that this was the man. He even has the tattoo." He points to a deathshead holding a dagger in its teeth on his forearm.

"That is not the skull. Its not him." She says in a almost defeated tone.

"Did the shipment go through?" She asks her Sergeant as she pulls out a cigar from her coat.

Karl catches a brief glimpse of the blue collar tabs and soviet army captain's shoulder boards. The woman was an officer and judging by the blue collar tabs she wasn't a nurse or communications girl who spent more time dodging the men of her own unit rather than the bullets of the Afghans. No… A front line VDV commanding officer… She carried herself with that of a battle hardened soldier and her scars showed that she gave more than just blood in the sands and mountains of the bear trap that was Afghanistan.

"And the woman?" She asks the Sergeant after his brief on the weapons.

"Disappeared after she gave me the information." He replied as he pulls out a picture and a black hat. "I was sure this was the Chechen from the picture."

"Where?..." Karl heaves as he tried to fight the pain in his head. "Where did… Where did she get that… That relic?..." A soldier buttstroaks him with his Kalash and blood began to ooze from his mouth.

The captain ignored him and examined the picture with a careful eye. The man in the picture and her had a history going back to the sands of Afghanistan… She spent many years hunting him to exact revenge for the scars that cover her body. When the Sergeant called she felt her heart drop as she said 'The Chechen.' But it seems the Sergeants eyes were getting old, as was she, as she spotted evidence of photographic editing. It was a fake and she felt her hopes of revenge sink into the abyss.

"Captain…" Karl says with a heavy hiss as blood drips from his mouth and nose. "Captain…"

Balalaika noticed his gaze had zeroed on the hat in Boris hand and took interest in the old and torn wool cap. She turns to the side with Boris and tucks the old cap into her coat.

"Sergeant, Take this impostor away." She says. "Do with him what you please, just get him out of my sight." She walks away coolly but with noticeable hast to the keen eye.

"Yes ma'am." He replies.

Boris takes out a syringe from his coat and sticks Karl with it. Inside was a sleeping agent to put him under. It was better than buttstroking him a Kalashnikov, but still dehumanizing enough to please himself and the captain. Once again he was loaded into a car and taken away. Maybe he should simply finish him off in a ditch like the scum he was or dump him in the jungle. The information provided by Chang reported that this man was a rather harden killer and experienced soldier. It wouldn't be wise leave a man like this alive… A call interrupted his train of thought as the smooth voice of Dutch from Lagoon Company echoed on the other end.

Viktor listens intensely as Boris begins speaking to Dutch about a delivery from Vietnam and reports of strange men of Albanian origin at the docks this morning. Boris closes the call with another job regarding the recent pick up of East German hardware. He couldn't help but wonder about the man in the trunk…

The drive was longer than expected as they arrived at warehouse near the docks downtown. Boris instructed Viktor and two other new guys about holding the man overnight and to be careful as he told them of the recent shooting with the Italians this man had. Viktor didn't react like the other two did as he knew the man better than they did, at least he hoped as he rubbed the tattoo on the bottom of his neck as he took out a cigarette.

"Kaptian wants him disposed of." Boris explains. "Make it look as if the Italians found him." Boris drove off into the night leaving the three alone to do in Karl.

The other two didn't care that much and mostly spoke about getting hammered at the Yellow Flag. The younger one, age 22, named Alexander convinced his friend, someone Viktor didn't know, to go with him. They were both younger than Viktor and honestly it was better if they left him here with the man. If this was the man he thought he was then it would be better if he was here. Viktor was a little older than them, 27, and had more experience than the two when it came to dealing with HVT's and detaining prisoners thanks to his experience in OMON after the Afghan war. The two men called a cab and left the warehouse with in a hour.

Viktor walks into the warehouse and makes way to the spot they left the man. He was amazed to see that he was awake and moving around a bit.

"You." He says as Viktor comes closer to him. "You know what this means, yes?"

"You will kill them all, yes." Viktor replies with a smirk as he steps into the light. Karl got a better look at him to see that this man was of short stature with a bald head and a clean shave. He wasn't dressed like the rest of the Russians he saw as this man wore a more casual attire of jeans and a black button up. It wasn't Russian and neither was the CZ-75 in his arm holster. The burning green eyes of the Colonel he knew gave him comfort. It was him. He had lost weight over the years, but he was still the strong man they loved and feared. He pulls out a pick and a cigarette.

"Yes. Yes I will. You must be one of the smart ones." Karl replies as he examines the pick and cigarette. "I hope your here to keep that trend going."

"I would never harm the man who lead me and my brothers against the unknown." He replies as he picked the lock on the cuffs and gave Karl a cigarette. "Colonel Dael, It is a pleasure to see you once again."

"Colonel?..." Karl asks him as he feels the blood rush back into his wrists.

Viktor turns around and shows him something that would jog his memory. On the back of Viktors neck was a old world symbol going back thousands of years. It seemed to open the gates slightly for him as he remembered the fighting, the dying, the bloodshed, and tears of the past fought under that symbol.

"I don't know what your talking about." Karl says as he wipes the blood from his nose. Viktor lights the cigarette and Karl takes a long drag.

"Boss." Viktor says. "You do know. You remember Korea?"

"Tread lightly kid." Karl snaps. "I can still kill you in record time."

"Then you do remember." Viktor replies as he lights one up as well. "Do you remember me?"

"Refresh my memory." Karl snorts. "If you remember that bloody peninsula then your memory is better than mine."

"Its best not to repress those memories boss." Viktor replies as he lets the smoke out of his nose slowly. "I found my peace after the gulag. Some weren't as lucky like we were."

"I wouldn't call surviving that hell as lucky. Neither would I call the rest of my life one filled with sunshine and rainbows." Karl broods as ash falls from his cigarette to the floor.

"I see you haven't removed any of the tattoos from our time there." Viktor remarks on the prison tattoos on his forearms.

"Never will." Karl says as he takes another drag. "They will be with me till the end of days."

Viktor rolls up his sleeves revealing several prison tattoos including the same skull as Karl. "We were there together. I fought with you from the beginning till the bloody end from Europe to that forsaken peninsula. My name is Lt. Viktor Morozov and it is a honor to speak with you in person. _O la vittoria, o tutti accoppati!"_

We either win, or we all die, The motto of the Italian Arditi, the motto his unit adapted during the war in Korea and the same motto he taught to his soldiers during his time in Yugoslavia. His men knew it, lived it, and even adapted the Arditi skull on their right forearms as a sign of total commitment to the unit and the fatalist ideology he entrenched his unit in.

" _We either win, or we all die."_ Karl replies with a smirk as the memory of the glory days. The memories of his time fighting the secret wars with Claudia and the battles that this time and world have yet seen. "If you remember the gulag and Korea all together, then your not organic here…. What's your story lieutenant?"

"After the brigade dissolved, we spoke with some of the more 'worldly' and they made sure we all went somewhere far away as not to be discovered. I went back to my father's time, the good old days, but it seems they weren't as good as they said it was and I wasn't lucky enough to, as you Americans would say, strike it big, in the Soviet system. I was forced to serve and ended up fighting in Afghanistan as a Paratrooper. Once the war ended I joined OMON."

"Special Police, eh? Soviet SWAT?" Karl asked him. He knew only a little about the mountains of private armies spread across the USSR's own alphabet soup of security and intelligence agencies.

"Yes. They were made as successor to another unit formed after the Munich massacre. I did my time for the army and decided to go to something more for the people. Things weren't peachy, especially after the fall of the USSR, but I made due. The USSR wasn't the utopia my father told me it was, but he was right about the Federation under Yeltsin, drunk fool. So I went the way of many a Russian did beside attempt to leave the country… I turned to crime. Now here I am." Viktor explained as if he was giving a interview. "Yourself? I would have thought you would have been hell bent on finding Madam Marlin?"

"I was." Karl replies as he begins to loss focus and dive back into nostalgia. "Took me four, maybe five, years of searching… Then I realized that I wasn't looking for her, No, there wasn't a point in trying to look for her."

He stands up quickly and feels a head rush and begins to blink rapidly to get the spots out of his eyes. Unknown to Viktor he could see her standing beside him with a smirk on her face. She makes pass around Viktor and then around him.

" _His story checks out."_ Claudia says with a chuckle. " _One of my agents sent him here, I think it was Dr. Graf or Specialist Von Kluger. Not sure. He was with you in Korea and a few others as well. Looks like you made another friend, Cherr."_

"What made you stop looking for the Madam?" Viktor asks him. Claudia wraps her arms around him with a victorious glare in her eyes as she looked at Karl.

" _He never did. I found him. Isn't that right, cherr?"_

"I never did." Karl agrees with her as he spits blood out of his mouth. "Now what are going to do since you decided to betray your comrades."

"I never betrayed anyone." Viktor says as he pulls out a CZ-75 pistol and gives it to Karl. "I am loyal to my commander and to my unit. I served you and the Madam first, not Balalaika, not the Soviet Union, and not the dollar."

" _He is loyal. Just like all the men who served under you."_ Claudia remarked as Karl checked the pistol. " _Take care of him, Karl, and he will take care of you."_

"We will see." Karl said. He didn't fully believe Viktor, no matter what Claudia said. The Russian will have to prove himself and his loyalty.

" _Cynical. You've grown bitter and cynical over the years, darling."_

"Where are your boys?" Karl asks him.

"At the Yellow flag." Viktor replies. "I elected to stay here. No one knows my background prior to the army. Those two are thugs from Moscow, not real soldiers like Visotoniki."

"Visotoniki?" Karl asks as Viktor leads him out.

"They are Balalaika's special purpose troops. They are all either from her VDV unit in Afghanistan or from the Spetsnaz units of the navy or army. None from the internal troops like GRU or KGB. Ms. Balalaika despises the internal troops." Viktor explains to him as they step outside into the warm summer air. "They keep a car here for disposal, usually a pickup truck, we'll take that and get out of here. From what Boris was saying you were friends with the cleaner, is that true?"

"Perhaps." Karl replies with suspicion.

"Then we can not count on her either." Viktor replies as they find the truck. "She is working for the people that left you for dead, the Triad."

"I knew her position as the cleaner for the Triad. I went on a job with her a few days ago to kill some Afrikaner gun runner." Karl told him as Viktor unlocked the truck.

"Afrikaner? I heard about that. The Italians and their Albanian friends weren't happy about that." Viktor says with a grave expression as he starts the truck and begins driving. "That explains the East German hardware."

"You've lost me." Karl replies as Viktor gives him another cigarette.

"Hotel Moscow doesn't buy anything but former Soviet hardware, Not Warsaw Pact. The only gear Hotel Moscow will carry in her personal arsenal is that from the USSR, Not from a puppet government like the DDR. Plus its cheaper." Viktor explains.

"Chang said it was payment for the bullshit with someone named Bloodhound. Wouldn't Hotel Moscow take what they could get?" Karl asks.

"That would be true, but, you don't know how this outfit is. They only trust what they had in Afghanistan and I do not blame them. Boris spoke to the Lagoon Company about shipping them out to a buyer and more about the Albanians at the docks as well."

"Albanians? Whats it matter to you all? I thought this place was a melting pot of crime." Karl remarks.

"Its strange because they usually deal on mainland exclusively and use the Italians for port access." Viktor explains as he flicks the cigarette butt out the window.

"Maybe I pissed in someone's cereal bowl." Karl remarks as they get toward a main road. "Where are the guns?"

"A few blocks down at our part of the port." Viktor replies as they turn onto the main road. "I wouldn't recommend stealing from Hotel Moscow. They will bury you and me."

"You know you're a wanted man if they find out you defected." Karl chuckles at his poor cold war joke.

"Yes, but I would rather die on my feet with a gun in my hand then tortured like a peasant in the gulag." Viktor replies in a serious tone.

"Damn straight." Karl agrees with a smirk. Maybe this guy is the real deal Karl thought to himself.

" _Someone just earned brownie points."_ Claudia says with a chuckle.

"Shut up." Karl says.

"What?" Viktor replies confused.

* * *

 ** _MEANWHILE..._**

* * *

"That weird bitch was right." A Italian thug says as he spots Viktor and Karl in the truck leaving the warehouse. "That merc is still alive."

Ronnie 'The Jaws' received a tip via phone call about the whereabouts of the man who killed his gun runner and his men. Someone hired that psychopath and even pushed a cover story for him.

"I'll call the Jaws and pass the word." Another one said.

The call went right to the top. Ronnie "The Jaw" answered the phone with a angry groan, anyone would if you were caught in the middle of a good blowjob.

"Hello?"

"Boss!" The Italian replied. "That psychopath is in with the Russians! He's leaving a warehouse toward the Albanians!"

Ronnie pushed the whore off of him in a rage. "I WANT EVERY FUCKING GREASE BALL ON HIS ASS NOW! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"

* * *

 _ **MEANWHILE… AGAIN…**_

* * *

Viktor threw Karl in the back and wrapped in a cloth just like any other of the unfortunate souls who cross Hotel Moscow. They approached the gate where two low level thugs let him in without question. He took the truck toward a collection of containers and trucks near the Maria Zeleska cargo ship. To his surprise he saw Boris, Balalaika, and Rock near the crates. He could see the Lagoon Companies boat being loading with some of the cargo as well and even that crazy bitch Two Hand sitting on the bow smoking a cigarette. Foot soldiers were on guard ready and willing to kill to protect their matriarch.

Albanian mafia troops watched from afar on the roof tops with Binoculars. One of them spots the meeting and the firepower. Lucky for the Albanians this one was smart enough to realize who they were dealing with and called off the operation. "Fuck the guns. We can buy from the Chinese!" He says and reals in his men. Unfortunately the Italians were more headstrong and lead by a dimwit as a semi truck and eight cars worth of Italian foot soldiers drove right into the meat grinder.


	6. Chapter 6: Bear Trap

_**Yep another chapter and its short. I've been on a writing spree between Escape from Tarkov giving me depression (Amazing game but it fucking hates you and lets you know it some days) and War thunder (Another amazing game that will let you know it hates you some days).  
**_ _ **I hope everyone is enjoying it because I'm getting a good bit of views from it. I love Black Lagoon, Both Manga and Anime, and can not wait for this spring when the next one comes out.**_

 _ **With Love ~Dresner**_

* * *

Rock was collecting the manifests from Boris and briefed by Balalaika regarding the type of ship that would be delivering the shipment to. It wasn't much like some of the other shipments they took before for Hotel Moscow, but it was enough to still make Rock a bit jumpy.

"The cargo will be delivered to the freighter Yuri Andropov. Andropov is docked at the mouth of the gulf of Thailand, 8°01'34.8"N 103°32'53.5"E. Your point of contact is a man named Petrokov. They will be expecting you." Balalaika explains as she takes a drag off of her cigar.

Rock nods and begins filling out the paperwork on his end for Balalaika's and his own books. Even in the criminal world there is always some form of paperwork that has to be kept. A crane hoisted a pallet of DshK machine guns into the air and began loading the contents onto the Black Lagoon. Revy groaned inpacitently and chain smoked as a result. Rock continues on as Boris filled in more details regarding payment and other details.

Viktor drove the truck right out of sight of Balalaika and Rock. He backs it into the garage close to the pallets and kills the engine. This was the usual spot were the truck would park anyways to scrub the bodies of anything that would be useful.

"Fuck me. Lagoon Company. Move with caution boss, snipers and Lagoon Company are here. Try not to start a fire fight, You kill any of the special purpose troops in the fight and you'll have nowhere to hide." Viktor warned him.

"Those who dare win!" Karl replies.

Karl jumps out and starts slowly moving through the darkness toward the crates. To his luck no one was noticing as he began moving crates to the back...

Though Revy begins to notice something in the shadows near some of the crates. She gives a evil smile, she knew that wasn't one of Hotel Moscow's boys moving those crates just by the way he moved it. The street rat she was knew when someone was stealing. She drew her cutlass and stepped off the boat.

Karl and Viktor were taking a couple of crates in and cracking them open. He began loading a few 45 round magazines and others as well as he damned the Warsaw Pact logistical system. "Damn the eastern bloc. They don't know there is this invention called the strip clip? Or a concept called Pre loaded machine gun belts?"

"Westerners." Viktor says shaking his head. "So spoiled."

"Hotel Moscow have anything else here?" Karl asks ignoring Viktors comment.

"Yes," Viktor says pointing to another room. "There are some heavy weapons in there. You might find a PKM or at least a RPK."

"We'll need everything we can get." Karl says as he takes to the room across the hall.

"What are you expecting to run into? Don't tell me your looking at fighting the factions here!"

"No, Viktor, I want to be ready when she comes for us." Karl replies.

Viktor nods in agreement. But Karl didn't mean the Lagoon company gun, Revy, or Balalaika.

Viktor loads four crates of loaded 5.45 magazines, PKM belts, and a couple of RPG's into the back of the truck. For extra protection he threw a couple of AK74's and a RPK-74 all loaded and ready for action. The town was dangerous and with Lagoon Company next door things seemed more dangerous than anticipated.

The click of a locking hammer on a pistol takes his attention. His blood ran cold and he slowly puts up his hand. "Cutting a little off the top. eh? Not smart, Ivan, especially from Balalaika." The cold sadistic voice of Revy boomed behind him.

"Not at all two hand." Viktor says as he straights his back. "I'm on a mission for the boss. I would suggest that you back off before you do something stupid."

Revy laughs. "Don't play stupid ruski."

A loud crash and the thunder of belt fed weapons echoed outside the garage. Revy hesitates and gazes back to see two armored cars and five SUV's smashed through the yard. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Revy shouts.

The door to the other room slung open and Revy was greated by a man clad in Body armor, MASKA-1 helmet, with a PKM in his hands. Revy shifts her guns toward him and that moment gave Viktor enough time to knock her off balance and snatch an AK74 to spray a string of lead to get Two hands away from them.

"THE FUCK BRO!?" Viktor yells as he takes position behind the cab of the truck.

"I'm not your bro!" Karl replies as he flips the visor down. "We have guests!"

"No shit!" Viktor yells.

The Russians exchanged fire against the armored cars, but did nothing against their armor. Boris lead Balalaika and Rock to a nearby container. Balalaika drew her pistol and peaked around the corner to read the situation. Her men were holding their ground and suppressing the enemies who dared to step into her domain. The two armored cars, Chevy suburbans armored with steel and mounting American .50 caliber machine guns, were pinning her men down hard. But the men hiding behind the fire of the armored cars chose to hide beneath their firepower rather than flank them. These weren't soldiers or mercenaries, they were gangsters and low grade ones at that. As much as she wanted to push them forward the firepower was overwhelming. To her right she could see Revy taking cover and returning fire against the enemy as well. She could hear her trying to communicate with Rock to check on him, "How sweet…" She thinks to herself.

"Sergeant, Take four-"

A familiar hiss of a RPG's rocket interrupted her and with in a second the machine guns stopped. Everything went quiet until the squealing of tires and the rumble of a PKM caught her attention. The death truck, as some of the Hotel Moscow troops new it as, screamed out of the garage near the shipment with a man in body armor firing wildly into the enemy formation. In the back of the truck were some of the weapons bound for her allies.

"Take out the truck!" She orders.

"I'm on it sis!" Revy shouts as she runs forward after the truck firing both of her pistols wildly. The gunner in the back of the truck ignored her and fired on the scumbags instead.

Revy fired at the tires making the truck driver panic. Viktor tried to control the truck but the extra weight of the weapons and Karl in the back caused him lose control sending the truck into the side of a container. Karl was thrown out of the back of the truck and sent skitting into the wall surrounding the shipping company. Karl gets to his feet with PKM at the ready only to be kicked to the ground by Revy. She kicks the protective cover up and points her cutless at his face.

"Hey turtleman, Not so tough when your on your back eh?" Revy says, salivating over the coming kill.

"Maybe I shouldn't have worn body armor this time." Karl remarks with a chuckle. "It's always slowed me down. At least you want to look me in the eyes before you kill me. I can respect that."

"Well looky here, looks like I have a fatalist under my boot." Revy replies with a evil grin. "Tell you what tin man. Maybe I should give you chance to fight back. You really put a number on those grease balls."

"Ah the Italians." Karl laughs as she puts more pressure on his vest. "Guess one of them saw me and decided to try and finish the job. They couldn't finish it at the bar or the meat packing plant. I don't know what pushed them to try again here. Idiots."

"I remember you!" Revy shouts as she recalls the events he mentioned. "Your the one that pissed off that prick Ronnie and the rest of the Italian mob!"

"Thats me. Two hands right? I've heard about you." Karl replies as Balalaika and Boris appear behind her. The rest of Hotel Moscow were mopping up the rest of the Italians behind them. "At least I'm going to die to a real gunslinger."

Revy laughs as she glaces back to see Sis and the rest of Hotel Moscow. "Your not getting away that easy Rambo. Sis is going to purge your ass."

"Hotel Moscow's touch is nothing more than a tickle compared to the Gulag." Karl says monotone.

"That enough Two Hands." Balalaika orders her. Revy complies and holsters her pistols.

"He's making fun of you Sis. You just going to take that?" Revy teases.

"COLONEL!" Viktor shouts falling out of the truck with tokarev in hand firing wildly. He was wounded and concussed with blood dripping out of his nose and ears.

"Restrain him." Balalaika ordered. Three special purpose troops tackled him and tied him up with electrical cord.

"VIKTOR!" Karl shouts reaching for the CZ75 on his side. Balalaika shot the pistol out of his hand with her Stetchkin.

"That's enough, Colonel." She says with a almost conversational tone. "You just won't die won't you? Is that because your hard to kill or just unlucky enough not to die?"

Karl smirks and eyes the heavy automatic pistol in her hands. "To be honest Captain, I'm not really sure anymore. Maybe I just haven't met the right person to set me free."

Claudia began to appear again and she took by his side as he muscled himself upright. The witch held him tenderly and put her head on his shoulder. She hums a lullaby and smiles.

"Set you free. Huh?" Balalaika says pondering his wording. For a brief moment she could hear a prayer or a lullaby being sung softly. She could feel a energy in the air and something strange began to happen as she stares at the man on the ground. The figure of a woman began to flicker in and out of sight in front of her. She shakes her head and she only sees the man.

"We should finish this die hard off." Boris recommends. "We already have plenty to deal with regarding the Italians."

"Colonel?..." Balalaika says under her breath as they bring Viktor over to them. "Colonel? Sergeant Morozov, explain yourself. When did you befriend a Colonel?"

Viktor says nothing. Balalaika grabs him by the neck and throws him to the ground revealing the same symbol as on the black hat. "Ah so the marking on your neck wasn't just a mark of rebellion, wasn't it Morozov?"

Balalaika looks back at Karl and the look of complete hatred in his eyes. Colonel? The mark? So many questions… But this place wasn't the best place to begin asking questions.

"Sergeant." Balalaika says as she holsters her pistol. "Take these two back to my office. We have questions for them."

"Yes ma'am." Boris says with a no hesitation. He and the other men restrain the two and take them to the armored car.

"Put the 'Colonel' in my compartment. The traitor can ride in the trunk." She specifies.

Revy laughs but couldn't wonder what was going on in Balalaika's head. Usually she would have shot someone who dared to steal from her or try to kill her men. Though something didn't make any sense. That tank with PK didn't fire at Hotel Moscow, only at the Italians. Guess he was smart not to go to war with Hotel Moscow.


	7. Chapter 7: Interview with Balalaika

_**Long awaited update, I think. I don't know I just post and see what people think. Just managed to get a chance to read the most recent manga, Volume 11, and it was good.** _ **_I might add Feng, not sure._**

 ** _I hope you all enjoy this chapter because you wont see another until about April as I have to make a month trip to another state. Ugh. Fuck me man.  
Enjoy guys!_**

 ** _With Love ~Dresner  
_**

* * *

The Russians stripped him of his body armor and tied him up tighter than a christmas present. Once Balalaika finished speaking with Lagoon Company she left Boris to supervise the loading of the cargo. Boris was hesitant, just like everyone at the docks, to leave her and with that man. But Boris had to let his beloved Captain go on her own. But the Captain had a feeling about this man. To their surprise he didn't fire on anyone from Hotel Moscow, only at the Italians.

Another Moscow soldier opens the door for her while another takes the wheel. She crosses her legs and smiles at Karl.

"You surprised me Colonel." Balalaika says with approval in her voice. "A Colonel, here? Visiting my operation? I'm flattered. I would have taken the time to clean up my port and put the men in formation if a high ranking officer was on his way for inspection."

"I'm not Russian and don't call me Colonel." Karl grunted.

She looks at him with surprise and smiles again. "Then what are you?" She asks him with intrigue.

"It doesn't matter. It never did. I'm just a man. But if you must know I'm American." He replies.

"A American Colonel…" She says with a loathsome tone. "Special Forces?"

"I was never in the American Military." Karl replies. "Special Forces? No. I'm a Mercenary, always been one."

"That explains why I couldn't find the symbol on your hat anywhere on the American military records." She replies as she pulls out a cigar. "Who is your employer?"

"Self employed." Karl replies eyeing the cigar.

"I don't believe that for a moment." She replies as she takes a long drag off the cigar. "You manipulated the PKM with the hands of an expert and I assume you were the RPG gunner as well. Viktor wasn't the best with the RPG."

"I'm a bit out of practice." Karl says as he takes in the second hand smoke. The arrogant response annoyed her slightly, but she gave credit where credit was due.

"Regardless, I find it hard to believe that your background comes back empty. I don't believe in ghosts." Balalaika responds her voice becoming annoyed.

"Seeing is believing Ms. Balalaika." Karl tells her as he adjusts himself. "Its best we leave it at 'I've been around the block a few times.' I believe by your reputation and the VDV blue so have you."

"You can say that." She says with pride hidden under her calm tone. "What have you heard about me?"

"Paratrooper, mob boss, wanted in nearly every country on earth but they are to scared to take you in, and, to my suprise, a beautiful woman as well." Karl replies with a evil smile.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, if that is how the saying goes." She says with a annoyed tone.

"Take no offense to that Ms. I am simply stating a fact." Karl said.

"No one just becomes a merc out of the gate. You were a soldier once in your life, yes?"

"There never will be a were… or a was… I've always been a soldier." Karl says as the memories flood his mind once again. "Always will."

Balalaika looks into his eyes and saw the gaze.

The worn eyes of combat veteran. Pitted eyes with heavy wrinkles on his face from years of heavy wind burn, brutal heat, harsh cold, and bloody fighting. His knuckles were dried and cracked from hard labour and close combat. His posture was straight and profession, even after light torture and being humiliated by Two Hands.

"I see." She says letting the smoke out of her mouth slowly. "The private sector is rather profitable. In Afghanistan we found several mercenaries from Pakistan and China. They fought differently from the standard Muji. They were more organized and better equipped than them. Were you there as well?"

Karl chuckles, "You're the second or third person to ask that. No I haven't. I was mostly kept in Africa and Yugoslavia, where she wanted me the most."

He seemed to drift off into thought when he mentioned this 'She'. She would do the same once she mentioned specific moments during the Afghan war or the time before Hotel Moscow.

"Yugoslavia… I remember Yugoslavia, before the war." She mentions taking another drag. "My grandfather would take me there in my youth. I remember the beaches on the adriatic coast. Have you been?"

"I have, actually." Karl says. "I was on R&R during the ceasefire in '92. I was working with the Croatians then. My unit at the time convinced the government to let us go for a while, but we knew better than to stay at a resort in a major city due to the Serbs liberal use of artillery and air strikes against the civilian population in Slovenia during the ten day war. We made a camp in a cove about a mile or so from a coastal town so we could get supplies and some girls… hehe. I mostly remember sitting on the beach gazing at the sparkling blue waters drinking rakia. Good times honestly."

"Such a beautiful country before the war." Balalaika remarks with a smile on her face. "The best days of my youth were spent there and my Motherland. The second best would have to be with my comrades in that hell hole that was Afghanistan. We didn't have the luxury of a fine brew due to the anti alcohol campaign at the time. Some of the soldiers would go into Kabal while off duty and buy the worst homemade brews just to cut the edge off. I remember one drink that was made from aftershave, rosewater, and fermented berries left in the cockpit of a Mi-8 for five days. It was enough to get us through that hell until we left the country."

"Soldiers always find a way to relax." Karl agrees and motioning toward the cigar. "If your taking me to the firing squad like your Sergeant recommended, then shouldn't I at least get to have one last smoke before then?"

"Possibly." Balalaika replies as she takes another drag and blows the cloud of tobacco in his face. "Only if you tell me one thing: Why are the Italians trying to kill you?"

"What makes you think they are after me and not you?" Karl responds.

"They know better than to challenge Hotel Moscow." She replies with a matter of fact tone. Balalaika was right and Karl knew it. They were soldiers and the Mafia were just chumps with guns.

"Point taken." Karl replies with a chuckle. "I apparently looked at someone named Antonio wrong and he ended up face down in a puddle of his own blood. I guess it was a case of wrong time, wrong place so to speak. Then they decided to come to the packing plant and, well, I assume you also know how that turned out. Then here we are."

"I assume you came for the weapons to settle the score with them." Balalaika says pulling out a cigar from her coat.

"You can say that." Karl replies with a evil smile. "I knew I might run into trouble and I'm short on cash to buy any. Though I believe we might be able to strike a deal due to tonight's recent events."

"A deal?" She asks with malevolent intrigue.

"A rather inexpensive one, If I must be honest with you." Karl says as he moves around to allow some blood to return to his arms.

"If you haven't noticed you are not in any position to negotiate." Balalaika responds with a equally evil smirk.

"I'm not negotiating anything." Karl replies. "I'm simply making a suggestion and simply getting back what was lost."

"And what is it that you have lost?" She asks.

"The hat." Karl says. "I would like my hat back."

"Is that all?" She asks.

"Thats all. Maybe a cigar too."

Balalaika laughs lights the cigar. She takes a couple of puffs to make sure its lite and puts it in his mouth. He takes a few good puffs and sinks into the seat as the nicotine eases his nerves. After he relaxes Balalaika resumes the conversation.

"Now what is this suggestion of yours?" She asks him.

"Well from what I understand, Hotel Moscow and the rest of the faction are in a cold war of a kind. Yes?" Karl asks her as he blows the smoke out of his nose.

"To a extent, yes." She confirms. "Though there is no such thing as a truly 'Cold' war."

"Indeed." Karl says. "So lets say I got away with some guns and maybe some explosives. Those said weapons and explosives are used to settle a score between some outsider and the Italian Mafia. After all money talks and money walks. Who could prove it was you, Chang, the Columbians, or even some other outside force? I'm a mercenary, someone with zero loyalty to state, country, or ideology. A commodity that can be bought and sold like any other."

Balalaika laughs and takes another hard hit off her cigar. The car turns and parks next to a large building with plain cloths Hotel Moscow soldiers taking up positions around the block. The door opens and he's dragged out of the car at gunpoint as the Captain lead the way. They grabbed Viktor out of the back and took them both upstairs to her office. Balalaika pours herself a glass of bourbon and takes another long drag off of her cigar. Viktor slumps over backwards in the chair passing out.

"As entertaining and helpful as that might be. I do not take advice or suggestions from thieves, even if you are a soldier, a loathsome mercenary at that, what makes you think I will give you the privilege to draw breath off this earth?"

She takes a seat and places her pistol on the desk in front of him.

"I didn't know that was a privilege." Karl replies with a chuckle.

"To some it is." She says with a regretful tone. "Others it is a curse. Even more so in this city of the damned."

"City of the damned is taking it lightly." Karl agrees.

"When did you arrive to the city of the damned?" She asks.

"I think a few days ago. I don't remember. I just know I woke up in a alleyway and was jumped by the locals. Everything is a haze after that." He closes his eyes and he could see the face in the water clear as day. Its demonic voice echoing around him. Then he felt the soft hand and something new, the smell of sage, gin, and burning wicker. A girly laugh echos in his ear and the soft lips of a woman kisses him on the cheek.

' _Her heart burns with the fire of Bellona. The Roman Goddess of War, Destruction, Conquest, and Bloodlust. Her aura is immense with rage and surprisingly… Sadness. Her heart aches for death, just like yours.'_

"My memory is fading, even more so after the war and age isn't helping either. We both know this, don't we Ms?" Karl replies taking in Claudia's observation.

"Possibly." She replies. "You do not seem like the type to indulge in the poison of this city."

"I only enjoy the drink and none of the drugs. They do nothing for me." He says as he moves his hands around to find a spot where he could return circulations. "Yourself? My men who were there remember falling into addiction." Karl looks over to Viktor. While Karl didn't know him directly he remembers how majority of his troops during the fighting in Korea would loot the pharmacies and liquor stores to suppress the horrors they suffered.

She doesn't answer and takes another drag off of her cigar. "It isn't wise to ask awkward questions." She replies a few moments later.

"It isn't and it isn't polite to ask what a soldier indulges himself in either." Karl hisses.

"Are you aware of your position at the moment colonel?" She asks putting particular attention to the title of colonel.

"Dead to rights in a chair far from home." Karl replies with a smirk. "All I can do is die here. Wither its in your office, in the streets, or in the jungle. I'm going in the ground either way."

The two lock eyes in a grid lock as the souls of two old warriors battle on the astral plain. Balalaika wasn't a soft woman by any means. The beast of a woman in front of him wasn't to be taken lightly and Claudia helped him see that.

" _Sofiya Pavlovena, Balalaika. Her name taken from the SVD rifle. She's a tough one, cherr."_ She says taking a walk behind the desk where Balalaika sat. The witch runs her hands through Balalaika's hair and peaks at her scars. " _Captured by a Chechen during the Soviet-Afghan war and tortured for several days till her boys saved her. They are, for all intensive purposes, Ronin. Not only did her country turn on her and her comrades following their defection, but the country turned its back on the army itself following the collapes. Tragic, wouldn't you say charr?"_ Claudia wraps her arms around Balalaika and makes a cute smile as she puts her head on her shoulder. " _From the looks of her hands she's reaching for the APS. Maybe you should open up to Bellona. She might save you."_

He takes a deep hit from the cigar and releases it slowly. Maybe the witch was right? But it didn't matter anymore. It never did.

"Fatalism will not win you any points with me." Balalaika says as she stands up from her chair and grabs the Stechkin off the table. She finishes her drink and waltz over to the two men. Viktor awakens in a daze, "Colonel!... Colonel?... Whe-Where are we?..."

Viktor spits blood onto the floor. He hacks and heaves until he falls on the floor in front of him and Balalaika. "Don't worry Viktor… We will be fine. Just stay calm." Karl tries to reassure him. He looks at his face to see it is bloodied and swollen. The beating after their capture must have been brutal for him and the ride in the trunk did not help either. His eyes were swollen shut and blood oozed from his his gashes.

"Wh-Why? Why are we cuffed?" He asks him as he rolls on the floor. "Are we going back? Ba-Back there?" His voice becomes hysterical, almost in panic. He tries to get to his feet, but was struck down by Balalaika's foot. Her swift kick with her heels struck his ribs. Viktor cries in pain, but Karl holds back from letting his emotions get the better of him. "Please Colonel, I'm getting flashbacks… Tell me… TELL ME!" The man began to weep and beg the Colonel to tell him where they were.

"We… We are with Balalaika… She has us." Karl says to him hesitantly. Balalaika aims for hims head with her thumb dancing on the hammer of the heavy pistol.

"Wha… What? The Captain? Wh-What about the madam? Is she here? I can… I can feel her presence her… She… She spoke to me…" He murmured as he coughed up a couple of teeth.

"What is he babbling on about?" Balalaika asks confused at the conversation the men were having.

"You feel her too?" Karl asks him with relief. He knew he wasn't crazy. She was reaching out to others. "Claudia?"

"No… Not madam Marlin… The other-" He begins coughing roughly and Balalaika kicks him again.

"Speak." She demands to Viktor, but he passes out from the pain. Her gun turns to Karl and the hammer clicks back once her aim was right. "What was he talking about?"

Karl closes his eyes as the memories flood in from all directions. His silence was deafening to the battle scared Balalaika and she pressed the APS to the side of his head. The cold steel frame of the stechkin only seemed to trigger something with in his mind. It was then that the warm, dank, and smoke filled office in Roanapur disappeared. Replaced with a frozen hell… Far far away…

Her eyes widen and her intrigue forced her to take a seat and listen as he spoke in her own mother tongue.


End file.
